The Man Of Two Lives
by Demons Of Doom
Summary: Completed! And with a happy ending and all :D
1. Prolog

And I don't own any of the characters, keep it in mind as you go along, they are of David Eddings, as you all probably already know.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Garion's sleep was troubled. Imagines of his deceased friend filled his mind every time he tried to lost himself into the sweet oblivion of sleep. Memories of his childhood, of all the times he spend in the smithy with his old friend, that one that he considered to be a father, they crossed horribly with the memory of his corpse, dead, unmoving, his wide eyes staring at the empty space, nowhere, lost in the sight of an incomprehensive world for all of those who were left behind.

The floor was freezing, the noises of the creatures of the night he has grown so accustomed to during his long journey, were suddenly intimidating, treating all over again.

At last, his head and neck aching, he gave up. Garion opened his eyes and noticed that it was almost dawn. With a sigh, the now king of Riva stood up and got out of the tent.

All the others were still asleep. Or at least no one was outside in the clearing. The oak and sad trees surrounding them made his skin shudder. He hated that place, angarak territory and a constant memory of the mourning they were all submerged in.

Suddenly a white blur caught his eye and he turned around quickly in time to see a snowy owl emerging soundlessly from the forest. It landed in front of one of the tents and it blurred into the image of his aunt. Polgara stumbled to the tent and crawled inside without a word.

Garion sighed. It was time, perhaps, to leave behind his own sorrow. His aunt needed him, just as he had needed her so many times before. He was a child no more. He was a man. And the most important person in his life needed him to be strong for her.

A noise this time startled him. He turned again to the same direction. Another owl, a horned owl, come flying through the trees and it clumsily landed and turn into Belgarath. He had his face contorted into an irritated and tired expression.

"She had me flying around all the accursed night" he growled, sitting up next to the little fire Garion had managed to set.

They said nothing for a while, looking in silent grief at the sun rising in the horizon.

"Durnik was a great man" said Belgarath at last, gravely Then he sighed "One of the few man that really deserved my respect. Its tragic. And those things, sometimes are really hard to understand. But they happen" Then he looked at his grandson with a serious expression, his eyes penetrating. "Durnik didn't died for nothing. His death was necessary to save many others. And to bring peace and justice. He died as a hero, and that's the way we should see it"

Garion sighed "Being a hero does him no good, grandfather. Neither does it to aunt Pol" he had to stop for a moment, fearing his voice would break "They both deserved more than this"

Belgarath nodded "that they did" He looked at his daughter's tent with sad eyes" That they did"


	2. Back home

Fufff second chapter :) If something sounds funny (and no, I don't mean "hahaha" I mean WTF did she tried to write HERE???) just let me know :) I wrote this originally in Spanish so I suppose they are better in their original language My English is sort of limited If someone would like to translate the originals that would be awesome :) Anyway I hope you all like it

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The journey to the coast was long and seemingly endless. Belgarath had informed them that Barak and the others were waiting for them with the war Cherek fleet. Garion tried to find consolation over the fact that his friends were waiting for him. Barak, Mandorallen, Lelldorin, Hettar…Hettar.

Almost unconsciously, at the memory of the algar, Garion turn to aunt Pol. The dead eyes of the lord of the horses, the emptiness he had seen on his eyes match now Polgara´s own.

During the first days of travel, Garion was surprised to discover another aspect in CeNedra´s nature. The little princess had tried bravely to pull Polgara out of her autism. She had talked to her softly, with a tenderness Garion would have never imagined she possessed. Not one time she had screamed and, though her food was almost uneatable, all nights Ce´Nedra sat next to the fire and cooked.

Errant, his face always stern and very serious, remained near Polgara as well, as if to offer her support. He frequently exchanged grave, solemn glances with Belgarath and Garion. His face was young, but those eyes of his had become hard after the God's had left them to their devices back at the battle field. They at least, took Durniks body with them.

Even Silk was very quite and seem to have taken the smith's death as a personal insult of some kind. He was irritable and spend most of the time scouting the surroundings with Belgarath.

Garion would have liked to turn wolf and accompany his grandfather on those explorations. To escape, if at least for a while, that seemly endless grief, the constant silence, the helpless sadness in his aunt's eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He didn't want to leave her behind. Even if they didn't talk, or even look at each other, Garion wanted for Polgara to know that he was there, would always be.

At the fourth day, the sun at last broke its way free from the repressing clouds of storm that had covered it's shining presence since the companions had begun their journey back home. The change in the weather lighten their moods and Silk tried to make a few timid jokes. When those were well received by honest laughing, he moved on to most sophisticated sentences.

All the others, after almost four days of constant silence and growing melancholia, responded positively and started talking again with one another about other matters, besides death and grief.

But Polgara didn't. She remained silent and withdrawn, refusing to talk to them, to even look at them more than was necessary. She rode alone, slept alone and ate alone.

Finally, in the seventh day, Garion made his move.

He shared a silent and complicit glance with Ce´Nedra and allowed his horse to walk slower so that Polgara's and Belgarath's would catch up with it.

"Aunt Pol" he said, shaking the musing sorceress to reality. She started and looked at him as if she wouldn't have recognized him at first. Garion tried to ignore those eyes of the deepest lavender and continued " Ce´Nedra and I were wondering… if now that we are going to get married you could stay at Riva for some time…" at first his tone was mild, hesitating, but seeing the encouraging look in Belgaraths eyes, he straighten in his saddle and he smiled gently " You know…we really need someone to act as neutral ground? To keep both of us out of each other's throats? I don't think the poor rivans could take it for long"

Polgara stared at him for a long time and then, finally, she smiled. It was a sad smile, and those beautiful eyes of hers only grew more lavender, but it was at least a smile.

"Thank you, dear, but no thank you." She turn her attention back to the road and the smile was gone again She grimaced and tears filled her eyes But she did not cry " Too many memories resurface at Riva" she murmured" And I don't have the strength this time to endure them"

They didn't talk about it again.


	3. Together again

They arrived at the coast two weeks later and Garion was almost overwhelmed with emotions at the imagine of his friends waving their hands furiously in salute from the Cherek's ship nearest the shore-

Barak was roaring their names and Lelldorin, next to him, was weeping openly. Mandorallen watched their approach with his serious face solemn and a faint smile of pride in his handsome face.

A group of burly sailors threw over a wooden ramp from ship to land and the companions used it to descend.

Garion dismounted hurriedly and Barak embraced him in a crushing bear hug. When the huge Cherek let him go so the rivan king could breath again, Lelldorin took his place.

"I thought I would never see you again!" the Arend cried " I cant believe you did it! You kill Torak! A god!"

Garion wanted to say something, but couldn't, before Barak took him again firmly by the wrist and turn him around so he could face the Cherek's fleet

"Behold!" He roared, rising Garion's hand above the young rivan's head "The God-Slayer! Murderer of Torak, the Dragon God of the Angaraks! The God that is no more!"

The cheering that come from the Cherek army was deafening. And for Garion, stunned with all the noise after months of silence, all the emotions boiling in his blood, the scene before him was almost unreal. All the dark ships of the Cherek fleet where evil looking, somber creatures of the seas. The huge grins, the laughter, the cheering of the alorns on board reminded him of the hollow voices of the rock-wolves of Ulgo, that disgusting hyena-like animals that where the dogs of the Eldrakys.

Garion saw all that happiness and remembered the pain he had saw in the ruins of The Dark City. He remembered the howls of despair of the dying god, the silent pray and mourning of his brothers and father. He remembered Durnik's death and his Aunt's disconsolated howls of grief. His own sadness…

Before even realizing it, he was on his knees, on the floor, crying like a heart broken child


	4. Moking

The news about the death of Durnik ruined the festive mode for the others as well almost instantly. All the companions stood in frozen incomprehension when Belgarath announced flatly that the smith wouldn't be back.

Mandorallen cried quietly, his face not even showing his pain while his eyes produced tears.

Barak fall into a somber and somewhat swollen silence. He didn't cry. He expressed his pain with anger rather than sadness. He cursed and broke one of the wooden seats that were all along the side of their ship with one huge kick The sailor that was going to sit on it choose wisely not to complaint.

Hettar stared at them with his face, as always, completely expressionless. He did glance once at Polgara and then gave quietly his condolences and left to see on the horses.

Lelldorin had not met Durnik much, only for a few weeks, but he cried brokenly nonetheless.

All of them, however, both alorn and arends, were warriors. For them, to die in battle, was cause of celebration, of honor, rather than source of pain and sadness.

The companions remained on the cabins below deck, in silent lute while the army still celebrated the victory of the West against the East above.

A week later, when they reached open sea and where safely near the coasts of Northern Arendia, the sailors anchored and prepared themselves for the celebration or the defeat of Kal Torak.

Garion was amazed to find himself in the middle of what seemed like a sea city. All the war boats were together, formed like an army of huge sea monsters. Grinning sailors threw over long and huge wooden platforms that most of them used to move from ship to ship. Others, like monkeys, would balance themselves with the ropes tied to the posts or jump directly from one side to the other. In the middle of each ship there were now big and solid tables and were served huge amounts of food.

"This is seemly a banquet" Said Silk, obviously surprised" Normally, the only food available in a Cherek war boat is an incredible bad tasting fish stew"

"We saked some villages on the coast on our way to Mallorea." Said Greldik, the chosen captain of the fleet "One doesn't expect to eat much on the sea. The food weights down the ships. And if you have built a ship to be fast, why weight it down later on for stupid comfort. But in this occasion we considered that a little celebration would be in place"

"But you didn't know we had won"

Greldik shrugged "In case you hadn't, having a fast ship wouldn't have been of much use. But at least then I would have die with a full stomach"

"Your practicality is amazing" said Silk dryly.

After everything was accommodated, Anheg, King of Cherek, stood from the head of the huge table on Greldik's ship and gave a long speech that Garion, for the thunderous voice of the King, was sure was heard from Riva to Mallorea.

Anheg congratulated all the companions; he asked a minute of silence for all the fallen. He then offer his eternal friendship to Garion, to his kingdom and his total loyalty. They all toast in salute and agreement, with all the novelty that a sailor could accomplished- which included not burping while laughing, as Silk commented later- and sat to eat

Garion sat next to the King of Cherek, in front of Belgarath. Next to Belgarath was Polgara, and then Barak and Mandorallen. In his side of the table at his left was Ce´Nedra, then Silk, Hettar and Lelldorin.

He laughed when they seemed to expect it, and he smiled a great deal, but he was busy analyzing the situation and his companions. They all were the same. They laughed with open happiness. And it was real happiness, it wasn't a mere formality, a façade to impress the sailors, the king or even themselves. Why couldn't he feel the same way?

Garion glanced at his aunt Pol. She wasn't smiling, not even trying to show what she did not feel for the sake of the festivity. She had not touched her food and looked at the others with a strange expression that was a mixture of sadness…and anger? It was the expression of one that was being mocked and insulted.

Garion felt suddenly ashamed of himself and pretended to laugh no more.

After a few moments she excused her self in a quiet voice and returned below deck. Garion and Belgarath exchanged worried looks.

Garion was going to go after her, but Ce´Nedra moved faster, and before he even raised from his chair, the little Queen was already on her way. He was going to go too, but Belgarath stopped him

"I think she can be of more help than you, Garion" He said

"But.."

"Female's minds work different than ours" He said with a knowing tone " We don't talk the same language than they do in those circumstances. If you were on her state, I would shook the hell out of you and perhaps slap you a few times" Garion stared at him "But that wont work with Pol. Ce´Nedra knows better what to do. Let her"

They ate in silence for a while

"Would you really slap me?"


	5. No help will help

"Lady Polgara" Ce´Nedra called the retrieving sorceress but she didn't turn around "Lady Polgara..." She called again. And once again, the Imperial princess and queen of the world was ignored.

Ce´Nedra frowned. She didn't like to be ignored. She passed from a steady walk to a trot and finally caught up with Polgara on the top of the stairs that lead below deck.

"La.. Aunt Pol ?"she asked softly trying to get the other woman's attention .

Polgara grimaced and turned to look at her.

Ce´Nedra was waiting for an answer but the only reaction of the sorceress to her soft call was to look at her with those lavender and glossy eyes of hers.. For a brief moment, Ce'Nedra didn't know what to say, how to speak. She had tried everything she could think off to drag Polgara out of that seemly overwhelming sadness, with no success.

"I...Can I stay with you?" She babbled finally. When Polgara softened her expression a bit she added quickly. "I don't want to stay alone with all those alorns. They...make me nervous"

Aunt Pol hesitated "I'm...tired, child" She said finally with that soft voice she now always used. "I want to sleep"

And then she turned and started walking down the stairs. Ce´Nedra followed her.

Polgara really needed some sleep, she understood that part. During all those weeks the princess had never seen her sleep. Aunt Pol was either out "hunting" or she slept...for brief moments, only to be shaking awake by, what seemed, horrendous nightmares.

But being with someone on the same room while she slept would make her good. Ce´Nedra could tell her one or two stories to help her catch her sleep and when she was out the little princess planned fiercely to make guard and keep all those brutish sailors out of Polgara's hair. And, of course…

When they reached the cabin, the sorceress turned around, blocking the door in the process, to face Ce'Nedra.

"Tell my father that I wont be around for a while" She told her "tell him to stay away from me."

And then, she closed and lock the door behind her, right on Ce'Nedra's face.

The little queen felt confused, right at first, but then she felt outraged. How would anyone dared to even consider doing such a thing to her?. Dismiss her like a mere servant!. She thought for a moment about kicking the door open and storm into the room to give that woman a piece of her mind, but a little voice in the dryad's mind- or what normal people would call "common sense"-advised her that infuriating a depressed and powerful sorceress could not be a good idea.

Without fury to support her, she searched support on towering indignity. If Polgara didn't want help, then she wouldn't have it. If she was going to be so stubborn and blind as not to see what was best for her so she could merged in self pitying, so be it. She didn't care. Ce´Nedra turned around sharply and was about to leave the place with the dignity she had left, when she heard soft noises coming from inside the cabin. She pressed her ear to the door, and her eyes filled with tears when she recognized the sound: Polgara was crying again.

All thoughts about overpowering indignation and real dignity disappeared and she stood there silently. Her lower lip tremble and she left the corridor and went to search for Garion.


	6. Immortals also die

Polgara didn't feel very well. It wasn't her body what hurt, but her heart. She had felt this kind of pain before.

Over her life Polgara had suffered the death and loss of a lot of people she held very dear. Friends, family, all of them had withered and died without her being able to stop it. Anyone would say she would had get used to it. And in some way she had.

Her heart had grown hard. Sometimes, Polgara could see and do things that could break most people with the only notion of its happening, without even flinching. She cried every loss, of course, but there had come a point where she could at least bared the seemly eternal funeral that was her life.

There had been one occasion, however, where her pain, her sadness had not been fought, one time when she had thought her overwhelming pain was all she had left. It had been that time, so long ago, when she was young, when that other part of her heart and soul had died, had left without her, back in the first years of The Isle of the Winds.

And now, it was happening again. It was such an emptiness, a sense of helpless despair that she coudnt feel or think of anything else.

A soft wind extinguished the light of the oil lamps, leaving the cluttered cabin in darkness. Polgara lied down in the bed and, almost without noticing, began to cry.

----------------------------

Darkness surrounded her like a soft blanket and there, alone in the dark, she found herself submerged in the strangest musings.

With a professional sort of coolness and with an analytical approach, she wonder about her family. Were they expected to be some sort of machine? Not to feel or to love? What was being expected of them? Was the Purpose of the Universe not aware of the fact that they had feelings? Why did it force them to live in a world where all others died? Why did it surrounded them with mortals?

Mortals. The only thought of the word caused her pain. Mortals, mortality…death. What was death? What were mortals?

She turned to one side on the bed and stared at the unfeeling shadows.

Were they really mortals? Wasn't considered by all seven religions that humans were formed of two things: body and soul? She had seen it. When Beldaran had died and was taken away from her by UL. And she herself had walked among the tortured souls of the marags.

Could it be possible that they were actually not two parts of the same being, but two separate entities that worked as one, till one of them perished? Could it be that all humans where actually immortals? When a mortal died they, their essences, didn't just disappeared, like Ctuchic had.. A part of them still existed.

A strange idea come to her, one that brought an almost overpowering sense of hope and happiness.

If the soul alone could be alive, then Durnik wasn't really dead. He had just changed. He was gone, but...but she could follow him.

She felt a terrible need, an impulse so strong that for a moment, only a brief moment, almost pushed her to complete insanity

Her own physical vulnerability was suddenly all too clear for her. Sorcerers weren't invulnerable. Sometimes, with all their power, they seemed like it, but they weren't. They were humans, after all, and they could get hurt, could bleed, could starved like anyone else.

She caressed her wrists as if they would be itching terribly. She could put an end to her pain. She could cut off the distance between her and then man she loved She only needed to do one last thing…

But then a disturbing thought come to her even before she raised from bed.

If mortals were mortals in body, but they had an immortal soul...what about sorcerers? Could it be that sorcerers had immortal bodies in compensation of a mortal soul?

Her eyes widen and a mindless terror squeezed her heart.

If she killed herself, would be there something left?

The purpose of the universe had all mortals finding an end. It wanted for mortals to die in body, but not in soul. Did it wanted for immortals to die in soul but not in body?

Suddenly all seemed clear to her.

All of them were truly mortals. All of human kind. Most in body, but a few of them in soul. Was it possible that a sorceress soul could be hurt and bleed? Could it be possible that, sometimes, it could be hurt so badly and could bleed so much, that it finally died?.

She already knew the answer.

The purpose of the universe wanted sorcerers to be nothing more than weapons, guides. To be for the gods what animals of burden were for mortal humans, but nothing more.

Yes, they were not meant to cry or to love. Just to fight and to guard

Polgara knew that what she had come to understand was terrible. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She had been hurt for the last time. Now, she knew she was dead.

--------------------------------

Polgara didn't feel very well. But now it wasn't her heart what it bother her but her body. Her head ached horribly. She wanted to sleep, but couldn't. Her eyes burnt and sometimes it was like some evil bug had somewhat make its way through her skull to place itself behind her helpless eyes and pinched them merciless with its claws

Her stomach was bothering her also. She was hungry, but the mere thought of food made her nauseous. Sometimes it felt like her stomach was full of pure cotton.

If it weren't for the pain, Polgara wouldn't have been able to tell if she was awake or not. There was complete darkness and the only sound that come to her was the whispering of the song of the sea.

On its eternal dancing with the wind, the sea rocked the entire cherek ship as if it would be its child, smoothing her pained soul.

The cried of the seagulls could be heard in the distance above and they had a sad tone to them, like if the birds could feel Polgara's pain, and would give their condolences, and perhaps words of comfort, to her. If they were speaking to her, however, she couldn't tell. She was so very tired that couldn't even understand what they were saying.

-----------------------------------

Pain turned to numbness.

It was warm there. The bed was very comfortable. It was curious, but she suddenly felt content, almost happy.

It was so nice. The shadows surrounding her cover her shivering body like a protective blanket, the embrace of a lover. Her mind had finally stopped torturing her with memories of people and times long gone, with constant worries and recriminations and interminable questions. All the "whys" were finally gone.

Everything was gone. And she liked that.

She was dead, and faintly, she smiled. Death felt good. But she was dead in soul, not in body.

The sickly smile disappeared from her face and her eyes changed from the deepest blue to a tearful lavender. Her father, or Garion, or some other idiot would come to fetch her anytime soon. She suddenly remembered where she was, who she was and where they were going. And she felt so very old.

They would come to fetch her, and she would be forced to endure all that happiness that she didn't feel. The light that had hurt her eyes so much since Durnik's death. The noise, all that noise.

She didn't want to go back to the world she so hated. So feared. She wanted to stay in that place forever, to become part of that nothingness.

She frowned. Maybe she could willed herself to be part of shadows, of silence. Maybe she could willed herself to be nothing. Willed herself not to be.

The white lock of her hair suddenly started glowing, illuminating faintly her pale and haggard face, her lavender eyes shining with resolution.

Two lonely tears escaped her eyes as she started gathering her will


	7. So what now?

The Eternal Men and First Discipline of Aldur…was worried. In the last five days his daughter, Polgara the Sorceress and Duchess of Erath, the most remarkable woman in all the world, had locked herself in her room and didn't allow anyone, not even Garion, the King of The West and her nephew, to see her. She wouldn't even bother to answer if someone went to knock.

Belgarath didn't understand. The man of two lives. He thought that after dying, Durnik was going to live again, that somehow the smith was going to be resuscitated. Maybe he would be dead in appearance, but not in reality. Like a little trick, to fool Polgara into believing that he was dead until Torak was defeated…but Belgarath should have know better.

Why would the prophecy named him "The man of Two Lives", however. Why not calling him "the doomed one" or "the one to be scarified" or some other nonsense that would have helped him to even guess what was going to happen.

And now,…they have won…but for what price? Now, all the kingdoms of the west were going to celebrate the victory of the return of the King Of Riva. The Orb was in its place again. The crazy and blood thirsty god of the angaraks was gone.

But he himself had won nothing but a heart broken daughter and his own sense of loss.

The old sorcerer had found himself abashed with pity, with pain and sorrow. But that particular evening, he was infuriated. That stupid prophecy was as cruel as the other was. They both were nothing more than cold blooded…things!. No love nor mercy for anything or anyone The only thing that put them apart was that one promised order and the other chaos.

Belgarath let out an explosive sigh, feeling like a fool. Wasn't that the only thing that matter? What had he expected? Compassion or some sort of sense of responsibility from a purpose…or a voice or a sense of order or whatever it was? It only wanted to put things where they were supposed to be. If it had to make some injustices in the way- kill innocents, spit on the faces of the just and the ones who fought most bravely for its cause- so be it.

Belgarath sighed again. Life was just so hard sometimes. What in the world was he going to do now? Besides keeping an eye on Polgara, there wasn't much he could think of. He himself had gone through what she was living now…but only one single time. Polgara had gone trough this kind of pain so many times before.

Now he was melancholic all over again. Without fury to give him strength the old men submerged in his own painful memories. With sad eyes he lost himself in the contemplation of the sea. All the times he had received those kind of blows from life (or the purpose of the universe) he would dream of a time when they would be compensated for all the misery they had suffered on their long journey. The death of Poledra, of Beldaran, the butchery he was forced to allow in Maragor...all of that would be compensated somehow. And so he had assured his daughter when she seemed overwhelm with sadness or frustration.

But now…now he was doubting there would be an end for them. Maybe the purpose didn't want them to be happy. Maybe it didn't care, it didn't even know that they had feelings.

A silent tear escaped one of the Eternal Man's eyes. The First Disciplined of Aldur turn around to look at his companions. Anheg, Greldik and Barak were on the helm, and the huge read bearded cherek was grinning and laughing at something that the other two were telling him.

Lelldorin and Mandorallen where together with Silk near the stairs that lead below deck. The young asturian laughed frequently and Mandorallen, a little smile on his serious face, frequently put his right hand on Lelldorin's shoulder in friendly gestures.

Garion and Ce´Nedra like two roosting birds, were looking out to the sea. Without probably realizing it , they were both holding each other's hands with Errant standing calmly next to them.

Life was once again in order. The alorns had their king back. Asturian and Mimbrates could work out their differences and perhaps sing some sort of peace treaty that would last surely a few weeks,…or a few days. And Belgarath himself could go back to his studies, his books and prophecies.

The image of the silent and lonely tower that was his home caused an unexpected amount of sadness. Books talk a lot, they could fill the silence in the empty world of solitude. But books couldn't listen when words needed to be said. They couldn't give warm, for they were cold, unfeeling and indifferent to human's needs. They couldn't smile nor touch…

Belgarath suddenly felt so very tired, and so very old. How could he console his daughter when he himself felt like nothing else was worth the effort.

A burp - that sounded more like the roar of an eldrak-startled him and he turn to see Beldin next to him, with two jars of ale in his hands. One of them already half empty Belgarath look longingly at the jar that was being offered to him, but he finally refused to even take it.

"What the hell is wrong with you" Beldin growled.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Belgarath asked him mildly.

"Of course I do, you clot! That's why we eat and sleep"

"I'm serious"

"So I am!"

"Tired of being alone, damn it!" He immediately regretted the outburst. Belgarath was the strongest sorcerer in all the world. He just didn't considered proper to look like a poor melancholic old man. He sighed and turn to the sea one more time. "Tired of walking and walking and always getting no where"

" I would hardly call the death of a The Child of Dark getting no where, Belgarath"

Belgarath scowled "The Dark prophecy isn't dead. Something else will happen again. This wasn't the final confrontation And I'm tired and sick of waiting something that who knows when will take place"

Beldin gave him a hard look

"Don't be such a baby" He growled finally "That's why we are here, isn't it? To wait and prepare for the final encounter, It doesn't matter how long it takes. We have to be ready"

"Whatever for? People will keep dying whatever we win or loose"

"Look around, you idiot!" When Belgarath didn't turn the dwarfed kicked him on the knee, forcing him to turn partially to one side "Look around!" Beldin raised his leg and prepare to kick again

"Fine, fine! I have already turn around!"

"If Torak would have won, that wouldn't be happening" Beldin pointed at Garion and Ce´Nedra. "Both of them would be no more than vulture's food in that bloody city of hell. Or worse!. That couldn't be happening either" He pointed at the others, one by one. "We are not here to be happy, Belgarath, but to bring happiness to others!. Don't you think that that's more important than a childish desire of not been alone? Use your brains, that's our job. Let those brutes be guided by their feelings. That's why we are who we are, and why they are what they are"

Belgarath stayed silent for a long time and then gave his brother a disgusted look

"You are evil"

"Of course I am! I'm surprised you just realize it. But that's besides the point Are you still suicidal ?"

"I've never been" He shrugged "Books are not all that bad, I guess…and hoping doesn't cost anything" He reached and took the jar of ale that Beldin was carrying and drunk half of it in one gulp.

Once they went silent, the two sorcerers suddenly noticed the unnatural amount of noise all around them. They looked around and both were surprised to see a huge flock of seagulls flying around the ship, squealing and shrieking wildly. "What in the world…?"

Greldik was cursing and throwing everything he could put his hands on at the birds to try and scare them away, but they kept flying around, some even daring to descend inches away from the heads of the surprised sailors.

"For the god's sake!" Silk exclaimed, running to the two sorcerers, shielding his head with his arms after a seagull almost crashed on him when it descended in a low circle. "Stupid birds!"

"Something must be attracting them" Belgarath said, eyeing the surface of the ship curiously for any signs of food.

"NO!!" roared an infuriated Greldik "There isn't any stupid thing!!" He threw a bucket at the seagulls. The birds ducked the projectile (like a dozen times before) and they all made a sound disturbingly similar to a human laughter. The bucket landed on the head of one of the sailors

"What the fu…!!"

"You better shut it, friend!" Greldik roared. The sailor cursed under his breath and went back to work. Greldik also did and looked around with a wild expression in search of a new thing to throw.

"Talking about brutes" Beldin growled " The seagulls are smarter than that idiotic cherek is"

"He probably thinks the birds will take his ship and he has to protect his land…or whatever…right?" Silk said in a knowing tone and a mocking expression on his rat-like face. An expression that slowly turn into one of alarm as more and more seagulls come to join the flock that was already on top of their heads "The notion of birds taking a cherek's fleet is ridiculous, of course…" he said without much conviction. The shrikes of the birds was now deafening "….right?"

"They seem alarm for something" murmured Beldin.

Belgarath was going to say something when he suddenly grimaced in pain and reached below his tunic to grasp his silver amulet. It was burning like fire.

"Polgara!" He yelled in alarm and run as fast as his legs could take him, showing no signs of his age, with an inhuman terror twisting his heart. Beldin and Silk, after a few seconds of incomprehension, run right after him

The silver amulets were a gift of Aldur. When the god had first come to Belgarath to command their making, the sorcerer hadn't really understood y why it was so important. But with the pass of the years, he had discovered the extension of the bound the medallions created. It was a bound so strong that connected all of them, in heart and soul. If used in the correct way, the amulets could be a medium of communication and not only of words, but also of thought, and of emotions. Their souls were one.

And now, something was trying to destroy that bound

Belgarath gathered his will analyzing quickly, with the experience of 7000 thousand years of life, all the emotions and thoughts coming from the other three medallions. He felt the confusion and incomprehension coming from two of them. One with an almost child-like sort of terror. An innocent fear of something far behind the bearer's understanding Belgarath quickly shielded that mind from what was happening, and from what could or would happen. The other, stronger and more focused, was also scared, but there was knowledge and understanding of the present danger. And the third one…it was fighting, biting the bound that tied them together, trying to break free.

Belgarath pushed one aside, issuing a silent command to stay back. At the same time, the old sorcerer faced the other will, the one trying to burn itself with its own power and tried to smoother it.

His legs had stop moving without him even realizing it, his mind totally merged on the efforts of stopping whatever stupidity Polgara was trying to do. The burning will resisted his own cold embrace, and Belgarath was forced to push harder and harder.

Pain was coming now from the owl's amulet and it made the old wolf's heart ached, but he stayed firm and kept pushing, smothering it, forcing it to desist. Then another presence come and the two contending wills were suddenly separated, as if the barrier of ice and fire would have been cut apart by a sword's swing. The third will twisted between the two, helping one or the other until it apparently realized what was happening and join itself to that of Belgarath.

The burning will resisted a moment, but finally a terrible wave of pain and frustration washed them all, and the amulets grow cold again.

Trembling for the emotions boiling in his blood, Belgarath let go off his amulet and stayed there for a log time, looking past the darkness of the corridor that lead below deck. He turn around and scowled at the staring sailors. The seagulls kept squealing, but they seemed to calm down a bit.

"This ship wont float alone to the Isle of the Winds, you know" He shouted sharply and the chereks started working again, glancing nervously at him when the old men turn his back on them

There was light coming from one of the cabins. The door was there no more. All it remained was smoking pieces of wood. He ignored Lelldorin and Mandorallen, who were staring with a wide eyed expression inside. He pushed carefully a trembling Ce´Nedra out of the way and Belgarath grimly walked inside the cabin.

Garion was already there, kneeled in front of his Aunt, hugging her fiercely, as if letting go would meant an eternal am inexorable separation. Both of them were crying their hearts out.

Beldin was scowling deeply next to them and he seemed furious. His face was pale and he was also trembling.

Silk, without taking his confused eyes off of Polgara and Garion moved near Belgarath

" Belgarath…"

"Get out" Belgarath growled with a tone that give place to no arguments "Take the others. And just keep your mouths shut if the others ask too much"

Silk was taken aback for such rudeness but prudently kept his opinion to himself. He walked to the door and guided the little princess outside. The door regenerated itself behind him The four of them looked at it, stared at each other, and hurried back to the exit.


	8. Recovering

What in the world had she been thinking off? To will herself into inexistence! How could she have been so stupid! The explosion that such an action would have caused! All the damn ship may had exploded, with all her friends, her family, aboard. What in the damn world had she been thinking off?!

"Eat" a voice growled at her, interrupting her stern self-recrimination.

Polgara raised her face from its hiding place whiting her hands to stared at the plate that was in front of her. Her delicate stomach twitched at the notion of feeding of that disgusting fish stew again.

She looked pleadingly at her companion…and jailer. Beldin put down his own empty plate aside and scowled at her, waiting. Polgara sighed and hid her face on her hands again.

It had been the worst five days in all her life. After that night in which had took place that…incident, both her father and uncle had begun a stern surveillance upon her. They wouldn't let her alone one single moment. With utter humiliation she had to endure long and tiresome sermons about hope and how "life gives second chances, while death gives none", even after Polgara had explained extensively that she really didn't want to die. But all those times, she was ignored.

The first two days she had been too confused and too full of shame and frustration to protest about their ministrations. The hours she slept and the quantity of food she ate had been carefully measured and as the days went by she had begun to regain her strength and with it, her mood and pride. It wasn't long before Polgara had begun to protest, first mildly, almost timidly, but soon vigorously. It had made her no good, however and Belgarath and Beldin still remained impassive.

"Eat" Growled Beldin again and Polgara glared at him.

One time she had tried to refuse to cooperate on the old fool's little game. Beldin had come and woke her up but Polgara had decided to roll over and ignored his call. The sorceress had had enough and she would stay in bed as long as she damn please! Not Beldin nor her father would dare to physically force her into anything after all.

"All right" The dwarfed had said then "Suit yourself"

But Polgara hadn't been able to even finished congratulating herself when a thunderous burp was heard. It was soon followed by another and another and another. But it had gotten even worse. When he had realized that his burping seemed to have no more effect than a subtle flinch on Polgara, Beldin had begun farting obscenely every five or so seconds.

Soon, the air in the small cabin had become unbreathable and Polgara was forced to abandoned her warm refugee. Gasping for air, she had run out of the cabin. Beldin had followed her, scowling fiercely, but the amusement on his eyes had been evident. When Polgara had gone on deck, yelling and cursing, even the sailors had blushed at her choice of adjectives.

After that, Polgara didn't dare to test what would happen if she refused to eat the poison the sailors called food.

She stared at her plate again and sighed. With resignation she pinched the smallest piece of fish - they didn't even know what kind of fish it was- she could find and took it to her mouth. The sorceress grimaced at the incredible bad taste of the cold and grassy meat.

"I will have a long talk with the cooker" Polgara assured grimly.

Beldin shrugged "It isn't so bad. At least the fish is dead when they throw it in on the broth"

"I doubt it" she answered sarcastically staring with distaste at the small gray scales floating on the stew. Polgara put the plate down and stood up. "I will have a talk with the cooker" she said firmly.

Beldin eyed her suspiciously and she glared at him

"I'm a little tired, dear uncle, of receiving that sort of stares" she assured him coldly "I told you, and father, several times that it was an accident"

" No one can gather their will by "accident", Pol" Her uncle answered mildly

Polgara shrugged "I have. At least I really wasn't understanding the consequences of what I was doing. It happens sometimes, uncle. I was feeling…a bit lost, that's all"

"What about now? Are you still feeling…a bit lost?"

Polgara glared at him " I can do without the sarcasm, Uncle" she spat. But when Beldin kept staring at her with an expression of deep suspicion she sighed and her expression soften "No, things are clearer now. I needed that little…slap on the face, I guess. Life is what it is, and we are what we are. Life is hard…its mean…but I'm no coward. If it wants to be a bitch, so be it. I wont turn around and run like a scared pup. I really don't care no more of what it has in store for me. Now, if you would excuse me, the cooker is waiting. I will see if I can stop another abomination from coming out of that kitchen before supper time."

And then she exited the cabin and walk with resolution to the kitchen. She heard Beldin coming after her. He took her firmly, but gently, by the wrist and Polgara turn to face him. The dwarfed looked at her straight at the eyes with a serious and grave expression.

"I will trust you" He said sternly, pointing at her with a snarled deformed finger. Polgara gave him a level gaze and nodded gravely. Beldin growled then and let go of her wrist and then he slapped her on the button "Move then. See if you can prepare something that we can call food"

"I thought you said you like what you were eating?"

"I lied, you stupid cow. I lied. Your brains are turning to fish stew, I see"

" Perhaps, dear uncle. After all, they say that one is what one eats. Your own face looks more and more like the face of a dead trout. You even smell like one. Run along now" Polgara said calmly and began to walk again down the corridor "I will see to supper"

Beldin growled and walked in the other direction.

Their backs turn onto each other's, both of them lost the change of expression that took place on their faces. Beldin's stern face soften and he sighed with relief . Polgara's, for the contrary, seemed to get older and it shown a sad, helpless, resignation.

For the next five days, the sailors remembered the meaning of the word "food". Banquet after banquet was served to them and they fall into the food like a pack of starving wolves, without even asking what was that they were eating.

Polgara didn't come out of the kitchen more than a few minutes per day and she was swallowed into a true frenzy of cooking. The limited amount of ingredients and primary material that she could use for her "creations" didn't bother her. She even found it stimulating. Having to find new recipes for sea trout and sardine and, every now and then, even small kinds of sharks, help to keep her mind busy. And to be busy was what she most needed at the moment.

Every day she received some visits in her new lair. Belgarath come frequently to play that tiresome old game of stealing her anything he could put his hand on when Polgara turn her back on him.

The old sorcerer acted as if nothing had happened. Polgara knew him all too well, however. The game her father was playing was good, of course, but she could see the weary stares Belgarath gave her when he though she wasn't looking. The old wolf even grew serious and alert when she took a knife or any other sharp element.

Polgara grew irritated and soon begun to deliver her all to known clever remarks. And this time, they weren't part of that little subterfuge they have been working so hard to keep since she was an adolescent to hide what they really felt for each other. She was trying deliberately to hurt him.

Belgarath was not as obtuse as most men were when feelings were concern. He was very empathetic and soon realized that his daughter wasn't really as "back to normal" as Beldin assured him. Just seconds before she threw a cutting remark, her eyes would grow hard and become steely gray while the lock white hair at her brown would glow in the dim light of the kitchen. It didn't take him long to realize that she was severely crossed with him.

He wanted to talked to his daughter about that towering resentment but Polgara always pretended not to understand what he was referring to and sometimes even ignore him or answered him in an irritating condescending way.

At last the old sorcerer gave up. He would keep his will on her, so to speak. But the mundane work would be needed to be done by someone else. Beldin had decided that Polgara needed space, so he wouldn't be of help. Belgarath, however, was always surrounded by young people willing to make dirty little jobs for him. Garion and Ce´Nedra were immediately recruited.

Now with the reassurance of Belgarath, the young pair went to the kitchen often and Ce´Nedra begged Polgara to reinitiate her cooking lessons. The little queen assured the sorceress that she was completely enthralled with the prospect of learning 101 recipes to cook fish.

Polgara knew what was happening and she really wasn't in the mood for company. She wanted to be left alone. But the warm smiles on Garion and Ce'Nedra's faces, and the real concern in their eyes, softened her heart. She was unable to pushed them away. She loved them too much.

They were the only ones allow to stay, though. Barak, Mandorallen and the others often came to the kitchen to see how she was doing, but they were all practically kicked out. After the third time of being ignored, treated with crud rudeness or chased away with sharp retorts, they stopped coming.

The hurt look on their faces was like a knife on Polgara's heart, but she knew it was better this way. She could stand the presence of Garion and Ce´Nedra, the company of her uncle and sometimes her father, but the others…the others were different. They were all mortals.

Second by second, they were moving away from her. Deep inside she knew they couldn't help it and that it wasn't their fault but she begun to resent the fact that they made her love them.

The emotion was alien to her but Polgara welcomed that irrational anger. It gave her something to think about besides pain. Pain would make her think of people long gone. Pain attracted memories. It was a self consuming emotion. It attracted sadness and sadness weaken her, made her feel an almost irrational desire to escape.

Anger, however, make her strong. It gave her reasons to stay and fight back. It was an external emotion. She didn't hate herself, of course. She hated them.

Mortals were weak, were less than they were. Stupid, fragile little things. To think they could be friends, or lovers, or family. They were nothing. Just traps. Yes, she liked that term. Traps of the Purpose of the Universe to catch them. The Purpose used mortals to hurt sorcerers, to turn them into machines so it could use them most easily in its eternal stupid war against the other purpose.

Polgara closed her eyes and her lower lip tremble. No, she couldn't hate them. All of that was pure nonsense and she knew it. They were her friends. And she couldn't hate them. But she could try not to love them though. Her mission was over, after all. She didn't have to live among them no more.

The sorceress looked up from the hake she was cutting to look at Garion, who was washing some dirty dishes a few feet's away.

Garion was the one they all have been waiting for. The Rivan King. The God Slayer. Her mission was over. She didn't need them anymore. Any of them. She could go back to the cottage, to her home in the vale and never go out again. And this time she meant it. The prophecy and the gods and her father, they all would have to work without her from now on. She was done. She would never, ever, go out into the world again.


	9. Good bye

The cheering of the rivans could be heard from miles away as Greldik's ship approached the Island of the Winds. It also made Belgarion's guts twitched.

The young King of Riva passed nervously back and forth in the kitchen floor. There, at least, the yelling of his people come to him distorted, like nothing more than an animal-like roaring. He couldn't heard anymore the "King Belgarion! Hail King Belgarion!".

Garion chew on his nails. The last time he had come to the island it had been in the shadow of people much more important than him. But this time, he couldn't hide anywhere. It was he who they all have gather to see. And the notion of having to face half the population of his kingdom was more than Garion could take.

He sat heavily on a chair. On deck, the wind and the cold were like knives on the sailor's faces, but Garion felt the same heath he had felt back at the deserts of Chtol Murgos.

Aunt Pol raised her lavender eyes and stared at him, but said nothing. Garion was so very tired of that silence. He needed her, he needed her advices, her support, but all he was getting was silent stares.

"I cant do it" he gasped finally. "I'm not made for those sort of things. All that people just staring at me as if I would be some sort of god!" He sighed and rested his head on his hands looking miserable. "I'm just a misplaced farmer."

Garion looked up, as if testing the reaction his word would get from aunt Pol. But all he got was that silent, reflexive stare.

"Aunt Pol…"

Suddenly the door was opened and Lelldorin run in. He clumsily gave a reverence to aunt Pol and then he took Garion by the arm.

"Lets go. You have too see your people! There are all women and old men and children, of course. All the men population is still marching from Mishrak Acth Thull but you got to see it! Its like the sea, but made of people. You know, with the storm the water is all gray and the rivans with their gray capes are too! Come you got to see it!!" The young asturian informed, dragging Garion out with him.

"Please, Lelldorin, I really don't want to see it. With the cheering is enough for me"

"Oh, come on! They will think you are afraid of them."

"I'm rather" Garion assured him.

"Garion! A good king never should be afraid of anything nor anyone. You most than any other!. Besides we are all about to disembark. We are near shore" As if he had just remembered she was there, Lelldorin turn to Aunt Pol "Belgarath sent me to fetch you both"

Garion saw the subtle changed in the expression of her aunt. Her face remained impassive, even calm, but her eyes changed. They grow clouded for a moment with repressed sadness.

"Lets go then" she said in that dead tone of voice

They didn't have much cloth to choose from in order to prepare for the occasion. As Greldik pointed out, a war ship could and always should carry only the necessary. So they cleaned up the cloths they already have as best as they could and then descended the ship with solemn dignity.

Garion's legs trembled when the crowd begun to called him in unison. It was a thunderous and sort of defying sound. Like if they would be presenting their king to some sort of imaginary foe instead of saluting him.

Ce´Nedra moved forward to stand next to him.

"Just smile and wave your hand, Garion" She murmured and extended her arm. Garion nodded stiffly and took the princess arm on his own and followed her down to the firm rock surface of their kingdom.

On land there were a hundred guardians of shining armor standing on both sides of the descending couple and they stood there in stern formation with their swords in hand and their shields in the front.

Polgara and Belgarath followed them, and the next ones to come down was King Anheg and Barak. After them Silk and Hettar come, followed by Mandorallen and Lelldorin.

Garion felt dazed as he faced the crowd of cheering rivans. His life had changed so much, in so little time. But somehow the thought of that had a different effect on him this time. Instead of that stabbing melancholia he always felt at the memory of his old farmer days, he felt a subtle and gentle regret.

The last piece of Garion the farmer had died back at the Dark City. It had died along his oldest and most dear friend, he realized. He couldn't look back now. It wasn't the same anymore, would never be.

The God Slayer took his sword out of its sheath and faced his people. The orb shone exultantly at the touch of his right hand. Belgarion, King of The Isle of the Winds said good bye to his old self with a thunderous war cry as he raised the shining sword above his head. The rivans answered with howls of delight and though the only ones that had stayed were children, women and old men, it sounded like a deafening and fearsome roared of triumph.

For Belgarion it was like an embrace of welcoming of this new life that awaited him. He yelled again letting himself being engulfed with the sound of glory. Garion the farmer was dead. Now he was Belgarion, King and Guardian of the West.


	10. Departures

A month or so later, things begin to settle down in the kingdoms of the West. With the help of the Nadraks their armies had been able to make good their escape. And with no common foe to fight the malloreans and the murgos had jumped into each other's throats.

The kings and queens of the kingdoms of the west- expect for Salmissra who presented her apologies for not been able to attend…or so affirmed her representative Sady, the eunuch- and the Imperial Emperor of Tolnedra, Ran Borune and Ce'Nedra's father, all attended to one mayor council at the Isle of the Winds to discuss the details of the end of the war. It had been something fast, more for protocol than anything else. They all already knew what they had to do.

What really concerned them all was what would take place after the war council: the regal weeding.

It had been three very tiresome months, but all in all, Garion was very happy about how things turned out. He and Ce´Nedra were finally married and for now, everything seemed to be going along perfectly.

But, sadly, the inevitable good-byes finally come. Silk was the first one to depart.

"The world is waiting for me" He assured Garion with his long sharp nose and fingers twitching nervously in anticipation of what was ahead "I cant stay inactive for long or I may loose practice!"

King Rhodar and the cynic little Drasnian had departed two weeks after the weeding.

Followed not long after by the King Korodullin and the Queen Mayaserana and the regal family of Algaria.

King Anheg and his Queen Islena were the next ones to announced their departure and Barak, and his wife Merel, dragged their children from their hiding places in the palace and decided to take the same ride on the ship of captain Greldik along with Fulrach, the King of the sendars and their somewhat hysteric queen Layla

But the one that hurt Garion the most was that of his aunt and grandfather. It would be the first time they would be separated. And Garion didn't particularly like the idea. He needed his aunt, and she needed him as well.

"You will do just fine, my Belgarion" Aunt Pol assured him while they hug fiercely after the fourth time the young king had asked her to stay "I'm very proud of you" She said with her deep voice full of love while she brook the embrace and took his head between her soft and cold hands and kissed him in the forehead warmly.

Garion wasn't embarrassed for that naked show of love and he raised his right hand to caress the white lock at her brown as he had done so many times when he was a child.

It had been an instant, a mere second, for Polgara turn her head away almost instantly, but Garion was instantly very alert. The sense of danger, of fear, he had felt at the contact with that lock of hair astonished him. He felt the terrible need to protect her, to save her from something.

Polgara turn away from him. Garion was going to stop her, to ask her about what he had felt, to beg her to stay. He wanted to touch that lock again to understand. But before he could, Ce´Nedra run to his aunt and crushed her in her little arms.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us a little longer?" The little princess asked Polgara with her green emerald eyes shining with tears.

"You need to learn to be alone, dear" she answered calmly " If I stay every time you two have a problem you will come to knock at my door. From now on, you must learn to take decisions on your own"

"Oh, I think I can handle it just fine, Aunt Pol" the dryad assured her, waving her little hand in a derogative gesture. "I'm worried about Garion, though"

"Me?" The so called Garion demanded.

"Oh, my poor husband" Ce´Nedra said, mocking the Queen Layla of Sendaria "What will be of him, now that he is surrounded by all those brutish alorns."

"Would you stop that?" Garion asked, deeply offended.

"Oh, you should have seen him the other night! He was so drunk that he sang in the most unmelodic voice I have ever heard in all my life!"

Garion blushed furiously. How he had hated all of his friends the morning after the "Last Bachelor's night" all the men folk had celebrated before the weeding. He didn't remembered that anything like it had happened but all of the rest habitants of the palace assured him that he had indeed sang an old folkloric sendarian song and that he had even danced it. What was worst, however, was that Ce´Nedra and the other ladies had all been witness of his pathetic little act when he had entered, stumbling to his room, where the women population was celebrating their own little party for Ce´Nedra.

"Would you stop it!"

"Is it an order?"

"Yes!"

"As your majesty commands" She finally conceded giving him a mocking reverence.

Polgara was smiling faintly. She took Ce'Nedra's face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead as well.

"I think you can manage, child" The sorceress assured her "I have already gave him the basics. Now its your turn to take care of him"

Ce´Nedra giggled, though Garion didn't find the whole situation funny at all.

"All right" a voice interrupted. They all turn to see Belgarath coming in. Errand, his little face serious, walked behind him "The ship is waiting. Lets get going."

Polgara looked at Errand and then at her father and her expression grow cold.

"Go ahead, father. Send my good byes to the others" she said

Belgarath seemed surprised "Is there anything else you need to do?"

"I wont be going with you, that's all" she answered flatly.

"What? How do you plan to go back to the vale?"

Polgara shrugged.

"I good flying will make me good."

"Polgara, someone has to take care of Errant"

"That's just to bad, isn't it?" her voice was cold, indifferent, but Garion noticed how her eyes changed from steely gray to a soft blue for a moment. She was deliberately trying to avoid Errant's eyes.

His grandfather's face grow stern

"Ce´Nedra, why don't you take Errant with you for a moment…"

"No, father" Polgara interrupted "Don't chase them away. This discussion is over." And with that said, she turn around sharply and walked out to one of the contiguous rooms.

"Now, stop there for one instant, miss" Belgarath said, walking after her and slamming the door shut.

Garion and Ce´Nedra took Errant with them and left the room hurriedly when the shouting begun.

Two hours later, all of them, Polgara included, were at the port, waiting to embark. Polgara's expression was sullen, but everyone choose wisely not to ask anything about her change of mind.

Lelldorin and Mandorallen said they good byes and aboard the ship followed by Belgarath and Polgara. Errant turned around before walking up the ramp and gave Belgarion a serious look

"Errant" he nodded gravely and then turned and walked slowly after aunt Pol.

Belgarion stared at the departing ship with a serious solemn expression. He said his goodbyes to Durnik and Garion the farmer one last time, and then he turn and walked to the citadel, with Ce´Nedra next to him.


	11. In The sea

Polgara was furious. She was behind furious! How did he dared to give her ultimatums?.

"I wont let you go along anywhere, Pol. And that's the end of the discussion!" Her father had informed her before they abandoned Riva a few days back. . Polgara was feeling too tired to discuss it, so she had accepted to go with them after almost an hour of arguments. Once they were in the vale, she could get ride of him. Let him play noble guardian for a few weeks. What did she care?

But it hadn't been enough that she had sacrificed her freedom for him. Her father had begun sending Errant after her too during their journey. To use the child as a weapon. That was so low, even for him!

Polgara, at first, had tried to ignore Errant. He didn't spoke and she had thought that ignoring him would be easy if he stayed that way. As long as the child wouldn't talk or try to take her hand or do anything else to get her attention Polgara wouldn't be forced to acknowledge his presence. But she had been wrong.

The little boy would stand firmly near by to fix those huge eyes on her. That damn blue and trusting eyes that spoke more than any word could.

Polgara had once turned to return the stare. And she had saw him standing there, so small and so alone, surrounded by those brutish men, looking at her with that naked trust and with eyes full of hope and love. Her heart had tremble within her chest with guilt and a terrible need to pick the child up and protect him and to give him warm and love and make him see that he was not alone.

Maybe she could take him with her, the sorceress mussed. If Errant was with her in the cottage she wasn't going to feel so alone, so lost. But then, as she looked at him critically the young face of the child seem to grow older before her very eyes. It become an adult and then into a an old men's skeletal face and then to nothing more than dust.

With a shudder Polgara adverted her eyes from him and covered her face with her hands. No. She could take it no more. She had lived it so many many times before. She was free now. She would never expose herself to such a terrible pain again.

Finally, boiling with frustration, anger and guilt she decided to abandon the ship. The deal had been to go with them to The Vale, but her father had said nothing about wanting her to be on the ship with them. She turned herself into the form of a white albatross and jumped to the air.

Belgarath, who was standing near to see the progress of his little plan was alarmed at first but seeing that the only thing she did was gliding a few meters away from the ship, he decided not to bother her.

After two days of silent watch and of making sure she never disappeared from sight and that she dived on the sea to catch a few fish per day to eat, Belgarath finally let her be.

"We will have our next chance" He assured Errant.

The little boy frowned for a moment and then nodded knowingly "Errant" he said with his most matter of fact tone

Belgarath smiled at him with a sardonic expression and then both of them turned to watch the sailors working to keep the ship moving.

The stars and the moon were above her, shining and illuminating the night while the sea whispered below her. There, gliding in the middle of that beautiful perfection, Polgara felt at peace.

The notion of becoming part of it was very tempting. She had always liked to fly but it was the first time she had experienced the effortless art of gliding.

The strong air currents caressed her wings and face. In the distance, the calls of the whales was heard and they joined their deep voices to that of their mother. Polgara let out a long, hollow shrieked that lost itself in the seemly endless extension of the water. It expanded, meting no limits, finding nothing that could distort its journey. It made her felt so free.

The whales answer to her call and Polgara called out to them again. The sound repeated and the waves seemed to whispered their welcoming. Her little black eyes begun to close at the lullaby the whales and the sea sang for her and for the first time in months she fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The wing currents were suddenly stronger and instead of caressing her wings, she begun to felt an uncomfortable tearing sensation on her wing feathers. There was a molesting howling sound around her and it was starting to disturb her dream. Polgara didn't want to wake up. She was tired and she wanted to sleep. Almost unconsciously, she seek comfort on the sea again. But now it wasn't whispering. Now it was howling madly below her.

Suddenly Polgara was very alert and she opened her eyes. The water was falling from the skies in a dense curtain that covered everything around her. She squeaked in fright and looked around wildly for the ship, but the wind and the water hurt her eyes and clouded her vision.

Huge waves of steaming water raised from the sea and fall into its surface again like furious monsters. Above, the thunders stroke the dark clouds of storm with fury.

Polgara tried to calm down. She had been in the middle of storms before, this wasn't the first time. A violent air current pushed her out of balance. Polgara extended her wings but the terrible wind blown with such strength that she was forced to enclosed them to ease the pressure on her muscles. The white albatross descended, gliding too near to the agitated sea for her comfort.

The air begun to blown in a different direction and the lone bird flapped her wings vigorously to try and gain altitude before the waves pushed her to the womb of the betrayer sea. The beasts of the skies attacked then. A thunder stroke a few inches away from her, slashing at the sea like a whip. The sound was deafening and the explosion of light blinded her. Polgara shrieked again out of pain and fear, asking the help of anyone or anything that could listen to her.

She kept flapping mechanically, shaking her head to try to clear it, to try and think, but the thunders kept falling, the wind hit her with its full force and the waters kept rising in terrible waves like formless hands to drag her down with them. It was like if all the accursed storm was against her.

Dazed, her ears ringing and her eyes shut tightly, the sorceress didn't see the huge water mountain that had formed suddenly behind her and that come now falling down just as quickly. It crashed down on the sea inches away from her, swallowing the fighting bird with a fearsome roar of perverted satisfaction.

Panicked, Polgara try to swing flapping wings that were designed to glide, and she kicked the water with the weak legs of a bird not made to even walk. She tried to shrieked again but the only thing that came out of her beak was a pathetic and distorted gurgling sound.

Finally, the white bird abandoned her futile fight as the waves pushed her further and further to the dark depths of the sea. A consuming resignation come over her. Why was this happening to her? Why did they stopped her before and now fate, or the gods, or the universe itself were killing her?

Polgara felt so very alone as the untrustworthy sea swallowed her. Why didn't Aldur come to help her? Why hadn't her mother listen to her? Now that her mission was over they disposed of her like a mere broken sword.

Her chest felt so very tight…like her sister had had before she died. She would be joining Beldaran soon. They were going to be together after so long. It was so fitting to die like her.

The drowning albatross turned slowly into the figure of a women of holy beauty that merged slowly with the sea.

Polgara's eyes grown unfocused. She felt a gentle regret at the memory of Garion and her father and her uncles and all her friends, but they would recovered. With that hope strongly engraved in her mind, Polgara allowed death, unfeeling death, to begin weaving its cold wet around her heart.

Something took her firmly by the wrist and she tried to focused on it. Her dazed mind wonder if it was indeed the death…death seemed familiar somehow…

It pushed her towards it's body and suddenly, invaded by terror, Polgara fought weakly against its grasp. But whatever it was, it was strong and held her firmly as it pushed them both to the surface.

The rain hit her in the face, and the waves come down on them one after the other with passionate fury. With some alarm, Polgara noticed that she should be breathing, though she wasn't.

For a moment, her vision blurred into complete darkness and when she opened her eyes again, the storm was still roaring in the skies, but there was solid ground below her. Something huge and dark was staring down at her. A thunder exploded above and she could see a familiar face…

"Mistress Pol…"

Polgara smiled faintly before unconsciousness took over


	12. faith

Belgarath sleep was troubled,.. He kept dreaming about endless storms, burning smithies and dirty little girls with long knives in their hands and their wrists bleeding abundantly.

A terrible thunder exploded in the skies, shaking the whole ship. Belgarath awoke with a startled oath. He stared at the wall for a moment, gasping and then the old sorcerer lied in bed again and turned to one side to try and sleep again. A pale young little face was staring at him in the darkness.

"Fuck!" Belgarath shouted again and sat straight, staring with horror at Errant "By Aldur, you never do that to me again" he gasped even as his eyes registered the cabin suspiciously "I hope no one has seen that"

Errant kept staring at him with that serious and stern expression. Belgarath found one of the oil lamps scattered around his bed and lightened it up. Then, he returned the child's stare.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked sternly. The child nodded. All the blood abandoned Belgarath's face as a sudden premonition stroke him. "Is Polgara all right!?"

"Errant" the child said somberly as his head moved slowly in a negative gesture

Belgarath jumped off the bed, put on the first clothes he found and run to the deck.

It was in absolute chaos. The waves hit on the sides of the ship with fury, washing them all every time they stroke. The sailors fought bravely to keep the ship afloat. They shouted orders to one another and pushed and pull ropes everywhere while others took the water that threaten to plunge the ship into the sea's enthralls with small buckets and throw it back to the sea.

Belgarath tried to look passed the dense curtain of rain as he searched frantically the skies. He grasped his amulet and searched with his mind. He felt Polgara's presence…but it was distant, weak, like the final notes of a dying echo.

Nearly panicked, Belgarath jumped to the roaring waves below them. He had never turned himself into a monster, never thought it would ever be necessary to, but the form of a sea-dragon was suddenly very useful. The reptile's eyes were as sharp as a bird of prey's and he could practically sense the movement of all the warm blooded creatures at miles around him. But he restricted his search to the temperature and figure of a human being.

Swinging frantically, more and more desperate as the minutes went by, Belgarath felt the almost overpowering need to jump out of the sea with a roar of wild frustration when suddenly a terrible sound, one that could only be heard by the mind, stunned him and he stopped.

The sea-dragon turned sharply to follow the trail of that deafening sound like if it would have left its very scent hanging on the waters.

Some sort of primary instinct of his new form informed him that the waters were less profound as he kept moving. An irrational sort of fear of getting stuck on the sand attacked him and he had to fight for a moment with that instinctive fear and the idea of moving on.

Cursing all dragon's stupidity he finally turned into a seal to swing the rest of the way and then into his own form once he reached land.

The cold penetrating him to the bone, the wind treating to push him back to the ground while the furious waves stroked at him with sadism, Belgarath walked slowly to the unmoving figure laying ahead on the beach.

His legs trembling at the mortal paleness of her features and her unmoving chest, the old sorcerer fall on his knees next to his daughter and took her delicate face on his hands.

The Eternal Man's eyes were invaded by tears and he felt almost the same way he had when Beldin informed him, three thousand years ago, that Poledra, his beloved wife, had died at the moment of giving birth to twins. One twin was dead and now he was loosing the other one.

But then Belgarath felt a soft, timid beat at the base of Polgara's neck. His eyes widen and he snapped out of that hysteric despair that had almost engulfed him a few seconds ago and took her daughter's wrist. Her heart was beating! She wasn't dead!

Belgarath picked Polgara tenderly on his arms and traslocated himself to the ship.

"Go get Ariana!" he ordered sharply to an open mouthed sailor who was staring at the two figures that had suddenly appeared in front of him "Move you idiot!" Without waiting to see if his order had finally been assimilated, Belgarath jumped to his feet and prepared to go himself to fetch the only conscious physician aboard, but the young mimbrate was already running to them with Errant walking slowly behind.

Without showing surprise or shock or pity at what she was seeing, Ariana immediately seemed to leave aside that somewhat constant dreamy expression on all arend's faces and her face was serious and her eyes were very alert.

Ariana put a hand on Polgara's chest and then touched her neck. She opened the sorceress mouth delicately and covered her nose. Then, inhaling deeply, she exhaled into Polgara's mouth forcing the air into the other woman's lungs.

Ariana straighten up and put her hands on Polgara's chest and pressed and let go rhythmically with all her weight resting on her closed hands.

When Polgara didn't seem to respond, she repeated the process under the intense and amazed stares of all the sailors.

Lelldorin and Mandorallen were also there, their eyes wide and the asturian even had his mouth wide open in a child-like sort of awe.

After the fifth time Ariana had repeated the process with no results, Mandorallen put his heavy hand on the stiff shoulder of Belgarath as if he would already expect the worst, but then, Polgara twitched and spitted a great amount of water.

Ariana turned her down and pressed her back to help her expelled all the water and when the sorceress begun to cough the mimbrate turned her to one side.

The watching men gasped in unison with relieve and Belgarath let out a shuddering sigh.

"We must take her inside and bring warm to her shivering form at once. Thou, gentle lord" Ariana said to a startled sailor "doth please be so kind as to give me that small bottle of fine liquor that thou have tucked into thy belt"

Sputtering and with an ashamed expression the huge cherek removed what he thought a well concealed bottle from his belt and hanged it over to the young mimbrate.

Ariana lifted Polgara's torso and poured the liquid down her half open purple lips. Polgara swallowed instinctively. The burning liquor run down her throat and Polgara begun to cough almost immediately at the pain it caused, but some color was already beginning to reappear on her lips and cheeks.

"Now, lets her get inside immediately"

There was a brief fight about whom would have the "honor" of carrying her, but Mandorallen was faster than any of the present alorns and he took Polgara on his arms and run behind Lelldorin, who offered his bed on the room he shared with Ariana for her.

"Its very warm in there" The asturian assured them and then Lelldorin blushed furiously glancing at Ariana. "For the oil lamps, of course. Its really warm and not because it seems to be when we both are there looking at each other and holding hands. I…"

"Doth forget about explanations, mine dear friend" Mandorallen said seriously, though his eyes seemed amused "We shall be guided by your wisdom on the matter"

"Lay her…No! Not on the bed, on the floor" Ariana commanded with a surprising firmness on her voice and Mandorallen quickly obeyed. Then she turned to face them "Depart, please. I shall now get her dry. If I happen to require your immediate assistance I shall send word to thee"

Both arends obeyed, but Belgarath lingered-

"Will she be all right?" He asked in an incredible soft voice

"I don't dare to assure thee anything per now, most holy" Ariana said grimly "But as soon as I am, I will immediately inform thee about it"

Belgarath stared at her with numb incomprehension. The he turned and exited the cabin. Ariana closed the door behind him.

"Mine friend…"Mandorallen said but Belgarath wasn't listening to any of them anymore He walked grimly to the deck and all who happened to see his face, jumped out of his way.

Once again in the middle of the chaos and the storm, Belgarath released the turmoil of emotions boiling in his blood and he shouted to the skies in an unattural thouderous voice.

"The gods be damned!"

* * *

N/A: Sorry for the clichesness (yes, chlichesness) of the CPR scene but its just too classic X-) 


	13. Of physicians and bone setters

Im sorry about the last chapter. I was a bit unsatisfied with it and I tend to get very careless when things seem bad for some reason. I re-read it and fixed- and changed- all I could and I hope its better now X) Thank you again for pointing those things out.

* * *

The days seemed to last forever as the cherek ship continued its journey to Camaar.

Ariana, the young mimbrate girl, was at Polgara's side all the time, making sure that the delicate condition of the sorceress didn't deteriorate. She had managed to keep the small cabin well aired and warm.

Ariana was a physician. And as all physicians in Arendia, she was a specialist in wounds of war. She knew automatically how to treat someone with a sword wound or how to remove an arrow out of someone, no matter how deeply it had penetrated. She knew what to do if a soldier had lost too many blood or if a knight had fallen from his horse and broke something. It could be say that she was both a physician and a good bone setter…but herbalist…that one had passed her.

There were multiple specialties in the medical word. A physician had a general knowledge about the proper treatment of the most common illness or wounds. Then there was the herbalist, who didn't know anything about sewing an open wound, but could surely make a poison or a cure out of the most insignificant plant. There was also the bone setter. A bone setter didn't know how to lower a high fever but could settle a broken leg with a single twist of their wrists.

Nyssa, she mussed, probably had the best herbalists in all the world but there were probably, without exaggerating, three or four bone setters in all the kingdom. Alorns were very complex people and making war upon their neighbors or poison them wasn't their only, nor the most important, occupation. There weren't any physicians in Aloria, though; there was the herbalist and the bone setter.

Still thinking about the medical particularities around the world , Ariana stared at the sleeping sorceress with growing concern. She was making her drink several topics per day, some to lower the fever, others to improve her breathing and others to help her sleep when the nightmares disturbed her rest but Polgara responded partially to them. The young mimbrate was sure that Polgara herself would be able to prepare a concoction to lower any fever or to make Torak himself rest as peacefully as a new born baby. But Polgara was an herbalist, she wasn't.

Ariana sighed and watched helplessly as the sorceress twisted and moaned in her bed, suffering the harassment of the cruel ghosts her own mind created.

Belgarath was there with them almost all the time. At first he had seemed furious, though his silent companion couldn't tell if with his daughter, with them or with the gods themselves. As the days went by and Polgara seemed not to improve, that anger turned to fear and deep preoccupation.

Finally, after three days of intense navigation, they reached Camaar.

Ariana covered Polgara with all the blankets she could find and, at the insistence of Mandorallen, the knight's cape. Then the group translated to the best inn they could find and transported their sick companion to a warm and well ventilated room.

Another five days passed and Ariana decided that it was time to aired her preoccupation to the patient's family.

"She is physically improving." She informed Belgarath with a puzzled expression "Her heart beats strong and her lungs hath seemly recovered from their violent exposure to the water, a most poisonous element to them" Belgarath stared at her "But she still twists and cry in her sleep as if the air itself would be tearing her chest"

Belgarath nodded gravely and he glanced at his sleeping daughter. Her eyes were closed tightly and her jaw set firm. Gravely, the sorcerer touched her amulet with his fingertips He immediately removed his hand. The silver medallion was burning.

"Her mind is doing this to her" he murmured softly and then begun to scratch at his bearded cheek thoughtfully. Then he sighed "She is normally the one who takes care of those sort of things. I'm not good at working with the minds of others…" He frowned " The Twins if not her…"

"Most Holy?" Ariana asked him

"Oh, stop calling me that" Belgarath said irritably "If I ever had something that could have been considered holy I lost it a long time ago…before I was even born, probably. When will she be stable enough to be moved?"

Ariana reached out and placed a slender hand on Polgara's forehead. Then she lowered it to her chest.

"A week"

"A week?!" Belgarath said indignantly

"A week" Ariana repeated firmly

Belgarath begun to curse under his breath. Then he passed nervously on the room for a few minutes.

"I will call The Twins" He said finally as if expecting Ariana to understand and turned sharply to leave the room, slamming the door shut behind him


	14. Dreams

Polgara floated in the water. She was surrounded by it, submerged on it. Such insignificant details such as not breathing didn't bother her during that magical moment. She was all bemused by the sight in front of her and she contemplated it in perfect contentment.

The black silhouette didn't have a face, but Polgara didn't need to see that to know who it was. The muscular arms, the vast shoulders and that relaxed stand, could only belong to one person. She smiled at him.

"Durnik" the sorceress murmured and tried to go towards him

As soon as she moved, however, the sea was gone and she was surrounded by dark, sad looking oak trees instead. Polgara could see branches all around her, not the logs that would have been the natural front view of a human.

Puzzled, the sorceress looked down and saw the wood's ground far below her feet. No, not her feet, her black claws. They were closed firmly on a branch tree. Without even thinking, she begun to fix her white feathers.

Something was moving behind her and she turned her head all the way back and found herself staring at another snowy owl. The other bird made a stiff move with its head and suddenly the wood was gone.

Polgara was now in the middle of total nothingness. It was only her and a huge black wall. It raised above and expanded from right to left endlessly, impenetrable. It was just as dark and totally flawless and it shone like obsidian.

Polgara stared at it indifferently and turn around to see a wolf surrounded by a blue light walking through the wall and sitting near her. The blue wolf fixed its golden eyes on the lone sorceress.

"Mother" Polgara greeted her.

The wolf nodded and turned her eyes to stared at something behind her daughter.

"Mistress Pol…" a voice said behind Polgara's back and then she felt a warm touch on her left shoulder.

Polgara turned around sharply, but she was again in the branches of the oak tree, staring at the snowy white owl that wasn't her.

"Rules that cant be broken, can be bent" Her mother's voice come out of the owl's black beak and then it twisted into a long wolfish smile.

Polgara opened her own beak to tell her something, but the only sound it come out was an unmelodic shriek. She tried again when but the other owl took flight taking the whole wood with her. Now there was visible the ruins of the Dark City.

The Temple of Torak was only scatter stone and twisted iron bars, a monument to the fall of the dragon god of the angaraks. Something moved below her and she quickly lowered her head to stared at the ground.

It was moving at her feet, beating like the chest of a dying animal and Polgara stared at it with detached curiosity. Then a clawed hand sprouted out and reached out for her face, immediately followed by a distorted and monstrous face.

"Mistress Pol!" It howled

Polgara shrieked and jumped out of the way and stared at the wilderness of the woods again. This time, however, she wasn't looking at it from between the branches of the trees, nor from the ground. She was staring at them from above. The lone snowy owl flapped her wings and kept flying soundlessly through the skies. Finally the trees were gone and the moonlight projected her winged silhouette on the vast plains below her.

Another winged form suddenly engulfed hers and Polgara turned her head to see. The thunders stroke with fury black and dense storm clouds and the wind howled madly around her. The rain hit her face and a shadowed figured stared down at her.

"Mistress Pol…" it said

"Durnik?"

"Mistress Pol…"

" How…" Polgara wanted to asked so many things, if it was that she was dead or if he was alive. She needed to understand.

But then the clouds above begun to give away and the sun broke its way free of their repressing presence. The dark figure shimmered, as in pain and Polgara reached out to try and touch him, but a hand took her by the wrist.

She glanced at it, but it wasn't the worked out hands of a blacksmith, but the delicate and skinny hands of an old man. Her eyes widen and Polgara looked up again at the figure's head.

It was growing slimmer. The firm and strong form of the blacksmith slowly turned into the frame of a tall and slim ancient man and the clouds above kept dissolving in the blinding sunlight

"Polgara" The silhouette said now and Polgara recognized the voice

"No…" she whispered, seeing the only chance she had to returned to her beloved being dissolved along with the storm clouds "Not yet!"

"Polgara" The voice was one no more, and the figure was also dividing. They weren't shadows now but were form of an incandescent light.

"No, damn it!" she protested closing her eyes tightly, trying to shield them away from the stabbing light. Polgara opened them again, however, when she felt something taking her other wrist.

The sobbing sorceress resisted at first, but then she gave up. They were dragging her to a single spot of darkness in the middle of that cruel light. Polgara hoped that there the pain would end

Pain, however, was the first thing she felt. There was an oppressive sort of pressure on her chest and breathing was painful as if the air itself was made of fire. Then the cold was registered and she started trembling violently.

"She is awakening" she heard a familiar voice said. It was a soft, gentle voice, but in those moments, she hated it's owner with all her heart.

"Thank the gods" another voice gasped with obvious relief and the sorceress hated it even more. The happiness on its tone offended her greatly. Did that stupid happy voice ever wonder if she wanted to wake up?. She didn't and once she was lucid enough, Polgara decided to give it a piece of her mind.

"How are you feeling Pol?" Another familiar voice asked while something caressed her face tenderly.

"Let me sleep" she complained, pushing her head away and trying to shield away from the noise and the light.

"You have been sleeping for a week, Pol" Beltira's voice informed her.

That really startled her. A week?!

Polgara tried to open her eyes but the light, though very dim hurt her. She hissed in pain and closed them again. After a while, she gave it a second try and was finally able to stand it. She could see the twins hovering over her, Beltira to her right and Belkira to her left. Both of them were holding her hands tenderly. Though she could not see them, she felt two other presences on the room, one was her father's, the other.. what was her name?

Polgara closed her eyes again and reached out with her hand to caressed her throbbing head. She felt dazed and light headed. And her chest…

"What is it, Pol?" her father's voice come to her and Polgara felt strangely touched by the obvious concern on it . Now that she was slowly focusing on the real world again, the memory of what had happened in her sleep scared her.

"My chest.." she complained "It…hurts,"

A cold hand touched her sweating forehead and Polgara tried to focused her eyes on the young face looking down at her.- The girl looked familiar but she couldn't really placed her.

"Thou hath almost drown, my lady" the still nameless mimbrate said "For a moment, we were most concern of the possibility we were too late and we may loose thee to the evil claws of uncaring death."

Polgara stared at her, trying very hard to remember her name. In her struggle to recover her memories, another face come to her. An asturian, The Archer. Those two were attached somehow, but she couldn't tell exactly how. What was the asturian's name now? She closed her eyes in her efforts to remember.

"She must rest now" the girl's voice was saying and the sorceress opened her eyes again and turned to see the mimbrate preparing something in a little table not far away from her bed. Someone sighed bluntly somewhere at the bottom of her bed.

"Do you think she will be all right now?"

"She is back home, it seems" Beltira was looking at something out of her camp of sight while Belkira kept staring at her, smiling encouragingly and caressing her forehead.

"Between our friend Ariana" There it was the name! "and us I suppose she will recover just fine, Belgarath"

Her father grunted in what she supposed would have been an affirmative gesture.

The young mimbrate that now had recovered her name in Polgara's conception of the world come to her and lifted her head from the pillows. She hold a cup to her lips.

"Here, my lady" She told her "This will make thy discomfort easier to withstand"

Polgara thought for a moment about telling that young little pup not to treat her as poor invalid and ignorant patient, but as she drank the bitter liquid, Polgara finally conceded it wasn't really worth it. It seemed that she found nothing really worth it anymore. And Polgara wasn't sure if she liked that.

"I will go downstairs, I really need a drink" she could vaguely heard her father saying, His voice coming to her distorted and very low, as if he would be speaking from very far away..

"Belgarath…" One of the twins begun softly

"Don't worry, brother dear." Belgarath interrupted acidly "I know how to control myself"

They kept talking for a while, but she couldn't understand anymore what was being said. Soon, she couldn't even hear them anymore as sweet oblivion come to embrace her,


	15. Nightmares

The kitchen was empty. The casseroles and pants hung from their hooks on the wooden walls. Their rhythmical clacking had a tenebrous ring to them. Knives and forks and other cooking tolls pended near by in perfect tidiness.

Little Garion stared with incomprehension at the center of the kitchen. Were there should be long working tables and stoves there was an empty space, a long sad looking grassland.

All of his friends were there: Zubrette, Rundoring, Doroon, Faldor and even that old story teller. On chubby legs he walked to them and hug Aunt Pol's left leg and looked up at her. She was looking down, all of them were. Not at him but at a white stone block they were all surrounding.

It was marking a grave.

Garion didn't know how to read, he was too young to even understand what reading was, but he clearly understood the words imprinted on that white stone: Durnik.

He frowned and turn around to see, not the kitchen walls, but the smithy. The rhythmic pounding of the hammer could be heard and the fire of the forge emerged from the door, illuminating with its red light the entrance of the solid building on the dark night.

Garion turned and walked over the smithy without even bothering to comment it to the others.

Durnik's right hand held firmly a huge iron hammer and his strong muscled arm brought it down firmly one time after the other against a hot burning sword. His solid but somewhat always relaxed body held an unnatural long and plain neck, however. Resting on it there wasn't the head of a human, but the head of a horse.

The colt's head was turned and it stared at Garion with its huge and profound black eyes, the fire of the forge reflecting on them. The young rivan stared back at him, scratching absently at the palm of his right hand.

The hammering continued and it begun to sound more and more like the beating of a heart on Garion's ears.

"Rules that cant be broken can be bent" It said on a neutral and dry voice.

A ear-piercing shriek was heard and Garion turned sharply. He was at Faldor's farm no more.

Riva was nothing more than burning ruins. Garion stared with horror from the highest and now roofless tower of what was left of his palace at the hell his kingdom had become.

The orb was burning in a reddish light on his hand and so was his sword. The sea was on fire as well. As far as he could see, all his word had become nothing more than death, fire and blood.

A dark hideous creature with a long sneaked body covered the burning skies with its dark wings. It howled and roared madly, vomiting fire.

Garion felt an overwhelming fury and he shouted his defiance to the beast. He raised the sword above his head and the orb shone exultantly.

The air behind him begun suddenly to burn and Belgarion heard a deep growl that almost stopped his heart. He turned sharply around to face a monstrous reptilian head, bigger than himself. It stared at him with steely grey eyes that were like moons on the total darkness of its skin. A white glowing line crossed its left side.

Garion lost his grip on the sword before the dragon shrieked hideously and leaped at him with its huge mouth open and ready to swallow him.

Garion opened his eyes as he let out a strangled gasp. He looked around wildly, but not daring to even sit down.

Slowly, the familiar surrounding of the regal chambers and the sweet scent of his little wife, who was sleeping peacefully next to him, calmed the young king down.

He sat on the bed and covered his face on trebling hands.

That accursed nightmare again. It had been torturing him for the last five months. And every time, even after he awoke, the husky smell of fire lingered.

The door slamming open startled him and he jumped out of bed with an evil oath.

"The Orb!" The seemly hysterical guard shouted. Suddenly he seemed to remember who he was addressing to and he bowed clumsily "Your Majesty… the…the orb!"

Garion's eyes were wild when he run to the throne room.

All the early rising servants were there along with Brand, the Rivan Warder and his sons and several guards. The orb, on its customary place on the pommel of his sword was shining with an anger red light.

"What on earth?" Garion murmured

"_Rules than cant be broken, can be bent"_A dry voice on his mind suddenly commented.


	16. Words in the wind

Belgarath was sprawled in a chair next to the window, an old scroll in his hands. Errand walked to him with a sad look on his face.

"Errand?" he asked brokenly

Belgarath started and looked at him. A deep consternation reflected on his face after seeing the empty plate on the child's hands.

"I have just cooked last night!" he protested "Are you hungry again?"

Errand's lower lips tremble

"Oh, don't look at me like that" The old sorcerer growled waving the scroll and standing up "I guess both of us could have something to eat"

"Errand" the sandy haired boy protested mildly after eating a bad cooked piece of meat and a pair of burned bacon.

"I'm not a good cooker, I'm sorry" Belgarath said, shrugging. Errant stared at him with the same sullen expression " Why are you upset with me?" the sorcerer asked with an innocent expression that suddenly grow offended "This is your fault, after all. If you would have succeeded bulling Polgara into loving you we would be eating real food now"

"Errand" The little boy said disapprovingly.

"There is no use talking to you." Belgarath growled,

"Grandfather!" a voice suddenly shouted and the old sorcerer turned sharply to the window.

"Garion?" he asked to no one in particular and with a slightly surprised look on his face

"Belgarion!" Errant laughed, clapping his hand excitedly.

Belgarath ignored the happy affirmation of the child and walked towards the window. Right there, in the middle of the grassland, dressed with travel stained sendarian clothes was the King of Riva and overlord of the West, looking expectantly up the window and shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand

"What on earth are you doing here?" was Belgarath's greeting to his grandson

"Can I come in?"

"You aren't running from Ce´Nedra, are you?. The last time you escaped her she reunited a whole army!. If that little demon you call wife brings together all the kingdoms of the west and comes looking for you, I wont get involved"

"Grandfather!" Garion protested and moved his fingers in a fast subtle way in front of his chest "_I really need to talk to you…? In private?"_

"Come in!" Belgarath said, waving his hand and disappearing back into his tower "You know where the entrance is and how to open it"

Though his attitude had been highly relaxed, Belgarath was now very alert and a bit preoccupied. The notion of Garion coming to give them some good news crossed his mind for a moment, but normally those sort of meetings meant bad news.

As soon as his grandson reached the top of the stairs and put one foot on the only room of his tower, Belgarath confronted him.

"What happened?"

Garion told him about the dreams he had been having since they all departed from Riva, six months ago and how the orb had shone in that red light.

"It has never done that before" Belgarath mused.

"Its what Brand has been telling us"

"Has it done it again after that first time?"

"It does it every time I have this weird dream"

Belgarath sighed and his face fall into a deep scowl.

"What about…the other? Has it told you anything else?"

"It only said you would know what to do. And it helped me to get here"

"How I hate it" Belgarath growled "That's it's only answer to all problems" Suddenly his expression changed "Have you told Ce´Nedra where you were going…or why?"

Garion blushed furiously.

"I…I left her a note"

Belgarath burst out laughing.

"Its not funny" Garion protested, blushing even more "I should have told her but it insisted. It said she wouldn't let me come alone"

Belgarath only laughed harder.

Offended, Garion turned around and saw Errand searching something around the section of the tower dedicated entirely to the cooking.

"Where is Aunt Pol?" He asked with some alarm

Belgarath stopped laughing and his face grow somber.

"She is with the twins" Garion stared at him and Belgarath's worried expression didn't help to ease his own fears "She stayed here for a few days after we returned from Riva" He made a pause and Garion immediately knew that his grandfather wasn't telling him everything ", but all of the sudden Pol grow terribly offended and angry with me for some reason and decided to leave. After all the "accidents" there had been" Belgarath said the word "accident" with heavy sarcasm "I wasn't going to leave her alone so we come to some sort of agreement with the twins. Pol seems to be having problems only with me, so she accepted to stay with them"

"Is she getting any better?"

"No. Worse, if nothing else. But Polgara had always taken those sort of things very hard. And Durnik was really special for her. The last time something like this happened, it took her five hundred years to get back on her feet"

"Five hundred years?!"

Belgarath shrugged "It isn't all that much, Garion. Sometimes its not even enough to heal from those sort of wounds." His face saddened " It has been three thousand years since I suffered a similar loss and it still hasn't heal"

There was a long pause.

"I really want to see her" Garion said "I've missed her"

"I supposed it would make her good. Besides, the twins ought to know what you told me. They may be able to get some hints of what's coming next out of the Mrim and the Darine's codex" the sorcerer's voice seemed tired but nonetheless he stood up and walked with resolution to the door.

"I don't really fly that well" Garion commented to his grandfather while they walked towards that tall pair of towers connected between them by what seemed an external corridor constructed solidly of stone and of no more than six feet long "But it insisted that would be the best way to get out of the island. I turned wolf as soon as I reached land. I like better the form of the wolf"

Belgarath put his hand in a rough gesture on the god slayer's shoulder.

"It seems you are my grandson after all."

Errand was running ahead of them, laughing and reaching out to the skies as if trying to touch the numerous birds flying around the left tower of that structure. Garion knew immediately that there was probably where his aunt resided at the moment,

The two ancient men that his grandfather called Beltira and Belkira were looking as gentle as Garion remembered them and they greeted the trio with sincere and open happiness. Little Errand hugged and kissed each of them with a serious expression on his face and then climbed the stairs.

The interior of the tower where Garion was escorted was very different to that of Belgarath's. It was neat and very tidy. The walls and the floor were of stone, but there were some wooden doors on them, probably leading to the kitchen and to the room where they slept. Scrolls and books were pilled up carefully on the huge library occupying one of the walls.

"We were preparing supper" Beltira informed them, walking to one of the doors.

"Sit down, please. I will bring some ale" Belkira added

"Where is aunt Pol?" Garion asked, refusing the invitation to sit on one of the delicate and well decorated chairs.

"We gave her…" Belkira begun

"…my tower" Beltira finished. "She needs…"

"…her own space"

"I would really like to see her"

Both twins seem to hesitate.

"She is a bit moody" Belkira warmed him

"But you can go and knock at her door." His brother offered

"Don't knock twice, though"

"You don't want to irritate her"

Garion nodded. He had learnt not to upset her aunt a very long time ago.

"Its that door over there" Belkira informed him gently

"We normally don't bother to close it"

"But she insisted"

Garion nodded again and went to the white door on the eastern wall of the tower. Errant jumped off the chair he was sitting on and followed Garion.

The corridor was as neat as the right tower, Belkira's evidently. It didn't have any ornaments on it, it was merely naked stone, but it felt warm and cozy somehow. More than a sign of separation between the two buildings, it gave the sensation of union.

There was another door at the end of the corridor. A lot of noise was coming out of that door and it seemed to him that a hundred of different voices were coming from inside. All of them talking about the sun, trees, the blue sprint sky and round eggs.

Garion knocked softly. All the singing ended abruptly and absolute silence fell in. Both of them waited patiently for a long time.

"Aunt Pol it's…"

"I know who you are…" come the soft response as the door opened slowly.

The tower was practically crowded with birds. Larks, and sparrows and humming-birds and dozens of other kinds of birds were perched around the furniture and the naked walls, staring at him with scared and alert eyes. The god slayer felt intimidated under that hostile surveillance of what seemed a true army of feathered little animals.

His aunt was also staring at him. She was sitting next to the window, her black hair dancing on the wind and a soft and delicate blue dress covering her form.

For Garion, that woman had always been the figure of unbreakable will, a firm, dependable person , someone who would always be there to protect him from anything or anyone. All men in the world bowed to her in the deepest respect and fear. The wildest forces of nature would break in utter fury or subdue in total calmness at the mere twist of her wrist. But now, sitting there alone in the dim light of sunset, she seemed very vulnerable. Garion felt a sudden wave of compassion for her.

That was until he saw his aunt's eyes. They were fixed on him with certain hostility. They were steely gray and there were dim dark circles under them. The white lock of her hair was glowing between the midnight of her hair and that compassion turn slowly into something near fright

"Wont you come in?" Polgara asked in a soft, unemotional voice that didn't show anything of what she felt inside.

Garion hurriedly walked in and closed the door behind him. Errand walked to aunt Pol, pulled his arms around her neck and kissed her on the cheek. Soon the child broke the embrace and scampered away to try and take an alarmed lark on his hands.

Polgara allowed the child to show her his affection but she made no move to return any of it. Garion had watched her face intently and it seemed to him that she was fighting against the deepest instincts of her whole being.

Without a word, Garion himself walked to her and crushed her in a bear hug. He wanted to give her all the comfort and love he could on that gesture. There were many things he wanted to tell her, but hadn't the words.

Polgara's body tensed up and for a moment she seemed to want to break that proximity between them, but finally gave up and return the hug.

There was a long time before either of them broke that embrace.

"What are you doing here?" Polgara asked after they had both decided it was time to recover their own personal space.

"The orb has been acting strange" Garion told her and Polgara frowned

"How so?"

"A few weeks back, it begun to glow red" Garion informed her. For a moment he thought about telling her about his dreams, but her face seemed troubled enough and he suddenly realized that his aunt maybe wasn't ready to take much stress yet. He shrugged "Grandfather says that it could be something related to Torak's death. Probably its nothing to worry about, aunt Pol"

Polgara gave him a long steady look. Her eyes, though sad, still had that calm and knowing quality to them that always unnerved him.

"He…he says that the final confrontation between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark hasn't take place yet" He finally admitted.

The change on his aunt was so abrupt that Garion was taken aback. Her face twisted into an expression of deep fury and she stood and turn around sharply

"Fuck it!" Polgara shouted and Garion's eyes went wide. He still wasn't used to hearing his aunt cursing.

"Aunt Pol…" he begun.

"Shut up!" she snapped at him and seeing the surprised and hurt look on his face, she made an effort to calm down "I…I don't want to hear it. I don't care about the orb or about the prophecy or anything else. I'm done, Garion."

"That's all right, Aunt Pol" He agreed quickly., trying to ease her mind "Between grandfather and I we can probably manage"

Polgara's face fell into an expression of deep sorrow and regret. She turned and went to the window.

"I'm sorry" Garion said after a long silence. "I didn't mean to upset you"

"I know" was all the answer he got.

After another of those long and uncomfortable silences, Garion moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Is…is it getting any better?" he asked. He wasn't good at comforting people and the whole situation was very strange to him. It had always been all the way around between them.

"No" was the flat response, but her eyes weren't nearly as blank. They shimmered with suppressed tears "My grief will last forever"

"The god Mara used to say the same" Garion said suddenly, without even thinking.

Polgara turned her head sharply and stared intently at him. Garion averted his eyes uncomfortably from that penetrating gaze

"There is always hope" He assured her mildly.

With a certain expression of disappointment, his aunt turn her head towards the window again

"Not for me, there isn't any more" Polgara saw the young king opening his mouth again to say something and she cut him off "Garion, whatever you are going to tell me, the others already have. I'm tired of words." She fixed her eyes on his, burning his very soul with those steely eyes "Solutions, Garion, I want solutions"

Garion opened his mouth, then closed it and opened it again. He suddenly realized that he couldn't really think of any solution that wouldn't probably offend her. They certainly offended him. He wisely decided to shut his mouth for good and stared at her helplessly.

"I'm sorry" was the only thing he said

Polgara's face softened.

"Don't be sorry, dear, Just don't do it again."

"Is there something I can do?" he asked her almost pleadingly

"Send my bests to Ce´Nedra"

Garion nodded. Polgara raised her head and sniffed the air.

"Supper is ready. Run along. It wouldn't be polite to make them wait"

"Aren't you coming?"

She made a face

"I'm not hungry."

She ignored the worried expression that was being sent to her and waited patiently for him to leave. A soft little hand touched hers briefly and Polgara gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to keep staring right outside. She could feel Errand's deep eyes on her. She heard him sigh and then he also left.

Polgara bit her lower lip and tried very hard not to weep. She was tired of weeping. The birds were still frozen and quite and the night settling over the horizon encourage them to go to their roosting places.

Silence come with the moon and the stars and Polgara felt it again. The wind itself seem to talk with his voice. First with words, then with long moans and sobs.

"Mistress Pol…"It kept saying to her, whispering brokenly in her ears.

Polgara lost the fight and she wept alone in the dark, hoping that her own wails of sorrow covered those of the wind.

The Tree on the center of the vale was at a fairly long distance from the twin's tower, but he could clearly see the glowing of her white lock of hair waiving on the wind. His sharp ears could clearly hear the sounds of her sobs and moans over his own and he forced himself to stop. With regret and a profound sense of guilt he shuddered in a new wave of pain.

"_You are making it all worst than it really has to be, you know"_ A dry voice in his mind commented

"Leave me alone" he responded tartly And with that said, he opened his wings and jumped to the air.


	17. Madness

There was nothing but light and it stabbed at her eyes but she couldn't close them. Then, the floor gave away below her and she began to fall. 

Her body was burning and then it grow deathly cold. It hurt and the pain only increased as she kept falling. Suddenly it all stopped.

She turned around on the floor. The moon was staring down at her from the skies. She was dazed and thought she knew there was ground below her, she couldn't feel it. The wind was howling around her, but she couldn't feel it either.

Slowly she sat and stared down with horror at herself. Her slender legs had become short and hideous grey members. Her trembling hands were human no more but talons. The fingers were gone to be replaced by sharp claws.

Trembling she stood on unsteady legs and looked up to the skies. An overwhelming fury invaded her and she howled to the skies with the voice of an unknown beast.

Polgara awoke screaming. With wild eyes she turned immediately to the window just in time to see a shadowy figure jumping out.

The sorceress rushed towards the window and peered out.

After Polgara searched desperately with both her eyes and her mind and found nothing, her heart slow its frantic rhythm and it stopped pounding on her ears. The wind began torturing her again. The sobbing, the moaning …

Polgara let out a desperate sob of her own and retreated, walking back into her room and covering her ears with crisped hands.

She couldn't go on this way. It was just too much to stand it. The fugitive movements around her, his voice coming to her continually.

Her head ached and her stomach twitched.

Polgara was conscious to some extent about what was happening to her. She knew all too well that she needed help, but she was afraid.

When she turned, the bed seemed treating. It was all too possible that insanity was something hereditary in her family. Her father had gone mad after her mother's death. He had told them that he usually saw and heard things that weren't really there What if it was happening to her now? Was she going to spend the next twelve years of her life chained to that bed?

Polgara went back to the window and fixed her hunted eyes on the darkness.

"…Mistress Pol…."

Polgara shuddered and moaned.

There was a gentle knock at her door. It made her jumped nonetheless and the sorceress turned sharply and focused her mind on the outsider; Beltira was there.

There was a long moment before she recovered her composure and decided to answer.

"Yes?"

"Are you all right, Pol?" His gentle voice asked her from outside.

"I'm all right" Polgara answered in a voice that sounded a bit squeaky even in her own ears.

Beltira opened the door, steeped into the room and closed it behind him. The old man's face was worried. Polgara grimaced and turn to the window.

"Did you want to talk about it?"

"No…not really"

"We are worried about you, Pol"

"I will be all right" Polgara assured him, trying to make it sound as if she really meant it.

A warm hand placed on her shoulder and Polgara tensed up. She turn to see Beltira staring straight into her eyes.

The twins were the most kind, gentle and caring of all the disciplines of Aldur, the living ones, and also that ones that were already dead. Sometimes with that soft exterior, they all forgot how wise the twins were…and how deeply they could see in other people's souls.

Polgara adverted her eyes from his almost immediately.

"Why don't you tell me what's happening to you, dear child?" The old man asked her softly.

Despite the situation, Polgara was a bit amused at being called "child" Sometimes the twins forgot that she had stopped being a child…around 2980 years ago. They were around 6000 years old or more themselves, though, so it was understandable, she concluded.

"I have already told you about the nightmares" she answered flatly and once again tried to make it seem less important than it really was.

"That's not all, is it?"

Polgara turned to him again. It was the first time she had ever seen that kind face so serious. Her lavender eyes fixed on his blue ones for a long time . What could happen if she told him about the way she was feeling, about the shadows that hunted her, the constant murmuring of the wind…

Beltira would of course tell Belkira about it. And then those two good hearted men would work into finding a solution. Polgara was sure she could trust them on that…but what about on keeping the secret?

Sooner or later, they _would_ tell her father about it, and then nothing in the world would stop _him_ from coming to her and try to help… by whatever means that were necessary. Polgara was a bit surprised at discovering that lack of trust on all of them

The sorceress shrugged and then pushed his hand away.

"Lay back down, Pol" Beltira asked her, putting his hands on her shoulders again "Let me see if I can do something about the dreams"

The lack of a questioning tone on that suggestion and the soft hands on her shoulders infuriated Polgara. She suddenly felt caged, smothered.

Turning around she roughly pushed him aside and walked to the door, Then, apparently changing her mind, the distraught sorceress turned to the bed, then to the widow and then again to the door. Polgara began passing back and forth, her anger just rising by the minute.

"You aren't sleeping well, Pol" Beltira noted mildly "Please, let me help you."

"Whatever for?!" she shouted "You have already tried. remember? For all the good it has made"

"Maybe Belgarath…"

"Don't you dare to tell him anything about this!" Polgara snapped at him and the white lock of her hair glowed in the dark.

Beltira just stared at her with a pitying look on his face. Her anger was almost overwhelming, but a little voice in her mind advised her that she was going to make things worst if she continued. With a great effort, Polgara put her emotions under control.

"He has been insufferable on the last months" Polgara justified the outburst with a calm and rational tone "If he ever finds out about this I wont be able to have a moment of peace for, probably, the next two or three centuries, Uncle"

Beltira's expression didn't change. Polgara sighed and walked to him. She caressed his cheek tenderly

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do, Pol but…" He caught himself.

"But what?"

"But Belgarath is right on some things" Beltira looked at her almost apologetically "There had been too many "accidents" lately"

Polgara's eyes grew steely and the sorceress walked away muttering curses under her breath.

"This is ridiculous" she finally exploded "You know what my problem is? All of you! That stupid pitying expressions on your old faces and your damn platitudes!" The walls were suddenly closing up on her, the shadows seemed to have substance of their own." Its…its all this fucking place! I need a bit of freedom! Time of my own…_on_ my own…to understand all that's happening"

Polgara sat exhausted on the bed. She had begun in an angry shouting that descended into a sad and mild tone. Sobbing, she hid her face on her hands and wept. This time, when her uncle embraced her, she didn't resist.

"Lay back down, child" Beltira said soothingly "Let me help you to sleep"

Polgara tried to push him away, but he didn't let go

"Please, Pol" he murmured in a pleading tone "Lay back down"

Polgara stayed still for some time, her eyes widening and her heart beating faster as an ugly conclusion sat firmly on her mind. They wouldn't let her go. She was trapped in that place, locked between the wills of sorcerers more powerful than her, totally alone and misunderstood. Her eyes traveled around the room, and the shadows seem to laugh at her.

With resignation, she laid back down. Beltira kissed her on the forehead and then placed his delicate hands on the sides of her head and gathered his will.

Polgara closed her eyes too and allowed his mind to merge with hers.

Beltira's wills washed over Polgara's and they both danced into each others touch and slowly, the will of the old man pulled down that of the sorceress and compelled it to relax.

After a few minutes, Beltira grew a bit confused. Her will was relaxed…but her mind was very alert.

"Aren't you tired, Pol?" He asked her softly.

"Not really" she answered "…aren't you?"

Beltira's eyes snapped open and he tried to pull his will away from hers, but he had went too deep into her mind to escape. It lashed out, trapping his and suffocating it. Polgara sat on the bed as Beltira fall from the chair he was sitting on. Her eyes were glowing as much as her white lock. Her expression was cold and somber.

"…Pol…" Beltira murmured while Polgara stood over him watching as his sleepy eyes fought vainly to stay open.

"I'm sorry" was all she said as her uncle fall into an enforced slumber,

Polgara let go of his will and kneeled besides him to pull him onto the bed. Alarmed, she suddenly turned to the door. Belkira was coming…and so were the others.

Polgara run to the window. Knowing her father would search for her with his mind, the snowy owl wasn't a good option, so the sorceress left aside her favorite alternative form and turn herself into a small falcon.

Flapping vigorously, she left the vale as fast as her wings could take her.


	18. In the dark

"I don't think the dream is symbolic in nature" Belgarath disagreed with Beltira's suggestion "Why put it on images when it could put it on words? Now that Torak is dead, what would the dragon mean?"

"Dragons have always been the symbol of destruction, Belgarath. Of evil" Belkira remarked " Its possible that what it means is that a great evil will fall upon Riva"

"There were two dragons" Garion reminded them " One was read, the other was black"

"Have you two found anything on the Mrim or the Darine codex?" Belgarath asked the twins with a somber expression

"The Mrim doesn't said anything" Beltira said sadly

"Neither does the Darine" Belkira added

Belgarath let out an explosive sigh

"I was hoping to get some vacations" He lamented "It seems they will have to wait"

"Errand" The small child that had being called after the so said word added to the conversation.

The oldest sorcerer fixed him with an exasperated glare.

Suddenly the twins sat straight on their chairs and exchanged a sad look. Beltira sighed and stood up.

"What happened?"

"Its Pol" Beltira said, walking to the white door on the eastern wall.

"Is she all right?" Garion asked alarmed, standing up also.

"She had another nightmare" Beltira opened the door to the corridor and closed it softly behind him.

Garion was going to followed him, but Belgarath asked him not to

"Beltira can manage alone. Don't interrupt." Suddenly a thoughtful expression come over his face and he turned to his brother "Has she ever told you what those nightmares were about?"

"Sometimes she talks about them…but she doesn't say much. You know how Pol can be."

"It's a family trait" Belgarath said, shrugging "We both are reserve…What did she tell you?"

Belkira seemed puzzled, but then the light of understanding begun to fall upon his face

"Do you think they could be related to Belgarion's?"

"They very well could"

Belkira pursed his lips and frowned.

"She keeps dreaming about The Man of Two Lives. But he presents himself to her in an inhuman form"

Garion gasped

"The same thing happened in my dream!" He told the two of them "It was Durnik's body" He shuddered at the memory "But….but he had the colt's head"

"Could it be possible that…?" Belkira murmured, wild eyed

"Of course not" Belgarath growled, disgusted "What's dead cant be brought back to life"

"Rules that cant be broken, can be bent" Garion recited that final word of his friend on the dream.

"Maybe we should talk to Pol" Belgarath mused "Lets know exactly what she is dreaming"

Belkira grunted and grasped his head. All of the sudden he felt terribly exhausted. His brother…something was happening to him. The sorcerer bent over and put his hands heavily on the table for support, facing the open scroll of the Darine Codex.

The letters were blurry, but some of them suddenly became completely clear to him. They seem to burn on the scroll, screaming at him to read them. What before was totally incomprehensive, now was the only thing clear.

"And hate shall consume the heart of the daughter most beloved and in shadows shall she fly to fight against the winged beast that was dead and shall not be dead now. Water and wind will be afire and the water and the winds and the island may succumbed. The Child of Light will be dead no more and he, and only he, will stop the hate of the winged beast."

Totally exhausted, Belkira fall to the floor. Belgarath and Garion rushed towards him. But the lone twin didn't stayed down for long. Scared he made use of Belgarion to stand up and run to his brother's tower.

"Beltira!" He shouted.

Belgarath was the first to enter the room of Beltira's tower. While Belkira run to his unconscious brother, he scanned the room in search of his daughter.

"Where is she?" Garion asked alarmed, also searching around

Belgarath was cursing under his breath

"You stay here" he ordered the young king sharply. Then his form blurred and he turned into the form of a falcon. Belgarath flapped his wings and flew out of the window.

It was useless, he knew it since the instant they all burst into the room to find only Beltira inside.. If she choose not to be found, Belgarath knew that neither of them could sense her mind at all. Polgara's mind was too subtle for him to pick it up. His eyes and his wings were of no help either. Polgara was a much competent bird than he was. Even with the little advantage she had, Belgarath knew he would never catch up with her.

Birds of prey seldom shriek during the night, but Belgarath didn't care much for the protocol on that moments and he let out a deafening shrill of pure frustration. To his surprise, another one answered him.

"I thought I had told you to stay in the tower, Garion" Belgarath reprimanded the young falcon flapping a few inches away "You have an irritating tendency of disobeying your elders"

"I'm sorry, grandfather" Garion apologized "But I'm just as worried as you are. We will search better together"

"Fine" Belgarath clacked his beak angrily "You go North and I will go South" And with that firmly said, he angled his wings and allowed the wing to carry him away.

It was noon by the time the old sorcerer decided to give up and returned to the twin's tower.

Garion was already there, massaging his arms and haggard looking. He looked up from the table at his grandfather expectantly, but seen the old man's anger, it was evident that he hadn't found her.

Beltira was sitting at the table also and his face was somber. He also seemed a bit sullen.

"Are you all right?" Belgarath asked him

"I slept like a baby" The white haired twin grumbled. He drank a bit of the jar of ale he had on his hands.

A bit amused, Belgarath turned to Belkira with a inquisitive expression.

"Polgara tricked him" Belkira passed on the information provided by his brother earlier "Beltira tried to help her sleep, and she turned on him and forced the sleep into him instead" There was a sad tone on his voice

Beltira's face was also troubled.

"We better go to Riva" Belgarath said to Garion "For what the twins here had gotten from the Darine, something bad is going to happen there and its better if we are prepare for it. You two keep trying to see if you can figure out something else. I will be in the form of a falcon, if you need to pass something on"

The two of them nodded

"See if you can find Beldin too. I want him out searching for Polgara." Then he turned his attention to Garion "You better get some sleep"

"I'm wont be able to sleep now, grandfather" the young rivan protested "You are telling me my kingdom will burn down any time soon and you expect me to sleep?"

"We will fly as if Torak himself would be biting our back sides tomorrow first thing in the morning, Garion" Belgarath added jovially "Try to see if that encourages you to get some rest today"


	19. Lost

The place was a total mess. The tables were completely stained with rests of food and spilled soured beer. There was a disgusted odor of rotten food and of vomit and sweat.

In the common room, the uncivilized ruffians that were probably the only customers of such a place were already sprawled snoring on the floor or on the tables thought the night was till very young. A few others were fighting, both verbally and with their fits, in the corners.

Cockroaches and other kinds of huge and disgusting bugs walked freely over the tables, the floor and the walls.

Normally, Polgara would have never put a foot in a place such as this one, not even if her life depended on it, but that particular night she didn't really care about rotten food, burly ruffians or huge bugs. She was completely exhausted and the only thing she really wanted was a place where to sleep.

The sorceress walked slowly to the innkeeper, a fat dirty man that was sitting- merely fitting- behind a small table next to the door. The huge sendar raised his eyes from the plate of stew he was eating and started when he placed them on Polgara.

"Wow" He said "Ya don't look very well"

Polgara's eyes narrowed

"You neither"

Suddenly a drasnian sitting on one of the far corners of the common room spitted all of his ale and sent the jar flying against the wall. He stood on unsteady legs.

"This is the worst ale I have ever tasted" the drasnian blurted. Apparently he had found that the ale wasn't tasteful anymore after the tenth or so jars. "I want all my money back!"

"If ya don't like it, you disgusting bastard, go somewhere else!" There was a muttering coming from the dark corner and the innkeeper's eyes grow wide, then a deep scowl darkened his face "No one calls my mother that. Excuse me a moment"

The fat man pushed Polgara aside with surprising gentleness and then stormed into the common room.

With detached coolness, Polgara observed how the innkeeper practically beat the drasnian into a pulp and then kicked him out

"I hate drasnians" The innkeeper growled cleaning his fist on his dirty shirt as he walked calmly back behind the roughed accommodated table he used as a desk. "Sorry for the interruption" the fat man eyed her suspiciously again" Whatever ya have…it isn't catching, is it?"

"No" Polgara said coldly. "I hope your stupidity isn't either. I have money. Want me to spend it here or will I have to take it somewhere else?…Maybe where there is a man instead of a pig attending the place?"

The innkeeper seemed surprised at first, then he chuckled.

"Let me see yer money first and then we can see what I can do for ya"

With irritation, Polgara pulled out a gold coin out of her pocket and throw it over the table. The wide eyed innkeeper took the coin rapidly.

"It's the best room we have" He assured her, now smiling politely at her and hanging her the keys to the room "The last one down the corridor, at the left." Then he paused "Would ya be after needing someone to watch over the door? Ya're a pretty woman and there are some ruffians down hea. I wouldn't want anything to happen to ya."

"I can take care of myself" Was all she said as she turned and walked directly to the room she was directed to.

If this was the best room they had, Polgara didn't want to imagine in what conditions the worst one would be. The room was just as dirty as the floor below and the bed was on the verge of collapsing.

She sighed and closed the door and locked it with the keys. Then Polgara made some alterations on it. She wanted to sleep and would preferred not to take the risk of being awaken by unwelcoming visitors. Now, the barely standing wooden door was as hard as iron and as firm as a mountain.

The fact that she almost fell right where she was standing after finishing with the door didn't pass her. Weakly she walked over to the bed and fell face first on it. Polgara closed her eyes and waited for her tired brain to relax and rest.

Tossing on the bed, tortured by passing nightmares mixed with memories, it wasn't long before her eyes flared open. Laying on her stomach with her face almost buried below the pillow in a vain effort to shield her eyes from the irritating light of the full moon coming from the window, the sorceress stared with helpless despair at the floor. A cockroach passed by and Polgara studied its journey with dead eyes.

When the insect reached the wall Polgara distinguished a winged figure being projected by the moonlight on it. Her heart jumped to her throat. Once again her eyes were showing her something, but her mind kept telling her that there was no presence around.

Slowly, without even bothering to sat, the sorceress turned her head towards the window, the pillow falling limply to the floor. She wasn't surprised at seeing nothing there but the endless sky.

Polgara stared wild eyed out the window, not alarmed, nor scared, just deeply confused. Maybe escaping hadn't been a good idea. It was all getting worst

"…Mistress Pol…" the air sobbed in her ears and Polgara moaned and jumped out of the bed.

The streets of Camaar were empty and the wind howled between the buildings. Polgara pulled her cloak tighter around her and scanned the surroundings with hunted eyes. A terrible fight was taken place once again within her mind. The rational part of her brain insisted that no one was around but a primary instinct, probably the most wolfish part of her being stubbornly refused to give up. It kept warning her: "Something is out there"

The darkness was vast and now once again the silence pushed her to desperation.

Polgara had never been alone in all her life. There has always been that other presence with her since before she was born. Polgara knew that always someone was out there caring for her, always ready to give her comfort and guidance when nothing was clear or when all hope was lost. It wasn't a physical sort of company, but a spiritual one. Her mother had always been with her…but now she was gone.

Polgara's fingers made their way to her silver medallion and caressed it with her fingertips.

"Mother?" She called out in a broken tone but once again the only thing that come back was silence.

Feeling naked and vulnerable in the terrible solitude of her mind, Polgara moved faster towards the gates of the city.

There were two guards sitting lazily against the iron gates passing back and forth a bottle and laughing. One of them saw the blue cloaked woman walking to them.

"Shouldn't you be at home…sleeping?" the guard shouted, standing clumsily and moving towards her.

Polgara's eyes glinted and she frowned in exasperation.

"Open up" She ordered.

"Not till dawn, lassie" the other guard, a tall bearded sendar evidently with some cherek blood on him, growled. His eyes narrowed suspiciously "Where are you going so late at night?"

Without even slowing down, Polgara raised her hand and made an imperative gesture. The huge wooden traps holding the iron gates together exploded and the huge doors slammed open.

The two guards jumped to the floor, covering their head with their arms to protect them from the rain of thick wooden splinters. Polgara walked passed them without even bothering to glace at their shivering forms.

The bearded guard jumped to his feet and tried to stop her, but Polgara, her eyes glowing with fury, stroked at him with the full force of her will sending the burly man flying back several yards away.

The other guard gasped and crawled back to his feet. Polgara turned sharply and froze him in place. The glow on her eyes and the white lock at her brown extinguished slowly as the man in front of her whimper and stared back at her in terror. Finally, after burning the poor guard with a long calculating gaze, Polgara released him and walked calmly towards the waiting open gates.

The sendarian began shouting for reinforcements, but the sorceress ignored him. The gates slammed closed again once she was out. They would not open again till dawn.

Like a ghost Polgara had traveled around the kingdoms of Sendaria for weeks. The extended journey didn't have any clear purpose. The only thing she wanted was to find peace.

She had discovered that the alarming sensation of been constantly watch decreased when she was moving and the voice on the wind got quite too. It was a temporary cure, of course, but she had been ecstatic with her discovery.

Only when her legs trembled with exhaustation and her mind was so tired that not even the slightest concept could be assimilated, Polgara stopped. In those occasions, she would let herself fell in whatever place safe enough she could find and she slept…until the nightmares stroke and she was forced to move again.

Something was going to happen and her mind grew restless. Her body was screaming, begging for rest, but her mind pressed her to move on.

Breathing heavily she stumbled along, trying to reach the woods. The cities were a pain to her. Humans were so noisy. The trees would provide her with a safe place where to rest and the night birds the company she craved for.

The sorceress vision was a bit blurry. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it and closed her eyes. When she open them again, a blue light could be seen ahead. Polgara fixed her weary eyes on that strange light coming from within the shadows of the trees,

No, it wasn't only her imagination…and it wasn't a formless, shimmering light.

Polgara's emotions were completely numb and she didn't knew what to say or what to do. Her mother had abandoned her when she needed her the most. Sudden anger filled her heart and she contemplated the coming of the blue wolf with unfriendly eyes.

Poledra sat within the limit of the wood and returned the hostile stare with her calm, golden eyes.

"Come" She said to Polgara and walked back the way she had come from.

Without a word, Polgara obeyed and followed her mother's lead.

The youngest sorceress had too many questions to ask, and her confusion was too great to be calmed with a simple explanation, so she decided to be quiet while they both walked deeper and deeper into the woods of the north part of Sendaria.

Finally, in a clearing illuminated by the moonlight, Poledra stopped and sat.

"I have a little surprise for you, Pol" the wolf informed calmly. "Don't get too exited"

Polgara frowned and then she heard something behind her.

" Mi..mistress Pol…"

Polgara froze completely, her breath catching up her throat. This time it hadn't been the chaotic whisper of the wind. It had been a clear voice…_his_ voice.

A warm hand placed on her shoulder and Polgara turned sharply around to face Durnik.

A/N: I'm sorry I changed the name if it upset someone. But the story changed a lot…and the name wasn't really fitting any more. I took a few days to write this chapter…I breath several times each day when the imperative need of uploading it attacked and I swallowed up my anxiety ) I hope its better now.


	20. Renewal

"I…I've lost it" Polgara concluded, stepping back from the hideous beast standing in front of her.

"No my daughter, you have not" came the comforting voice of her mother from behind. "He is truly here"

"No" the distraught sorceress moaned, trying very hard to make that horrible apparition banished

The thing's face contorted in an expression of unbearable sadness. It gave a step towards her, reaching out with one clawed hand.

"Mistress Pol…please…."

Polgara covered her ears and gave a step back.

Great tears escaped its eyes and, full of shame, the thing retreated, covering that strange face with its talons. The dark wings expanded.

"Stay where you are!" Poledra's voice snapped at it and the creature took in a shuddering breath.

"Please….I….cant bare it"

"You must." Then the blue wolf turned to Polgara "You are being rude, Pol." She noted critically

Polgara started. But then, trusting as always on her mother, she slowly began to ponder about the possibility of that winged thing been indeed the practical sendarian blacksmith she had loved in secret for so many years…the man that had died months ago.

Trembling, the sorceress turned to face it and then she reached out with her mind…but once again the echo that should have come didn't.

"I can't sense it, mother" she informed coldly, feeling somehow that she had won something.

Poledra actually laughed.

"Look at me, Pol" Polgara did "Now, _sense_ me"

And so she did… or tried to. After a few seconds, Polgara's eyes widen and she gaped at her mother.

"You have so much to learn yet" Poledra commented tenderly, her golden eyes amused

"You should really begin to pay closer attention to what's happening around you, my daughter. You have always been so accustomed to my presence that you have really never noticed that peculiarity"

"How can it be?" the sorceress demanded glancing briefly at the creature. It had stopped crying and was watching them expectantly.

"You can sense the minds of the living ones, Pol. I'm not dead, as _he_ believes, but I'm not alive either, like you all are. It was necessary for my task to be at several places at the same time. Some adjustments were made for it to be possible" Polgara nodded and turned to see the thing right at its face. Their eyes met and Polgara's heart beat with new hopes "So it's with him"

"By the gods" Polgara gasped, her eyes filling with tears. All the possible doubts were vanished, all the questions answered.

Durnik didn't move, still crouched against the tree, hiding as much of his monstrous body as he could. Pol's expression had turned from one of utter horror to one of curiosity and now of naked longing. He didn't know what to do. Poledra had insisted about this meeting, but Durnik had known all along that it would be a terrible mistake. He had done her so much wrong already, he didn't want to hurt her no more…but now it was too late.

Poledra, still sitting behind Polgara nodded encouragingly to him.

"Now it's your turn" The wolf said crisply

Swallowing hard, his wings trembling with the imperative need to escape and with his heart beating so hard that it pounded on his ears, Durnik slowly gather the courage to speak to her.

"_Go for it"_ the dry voice in his mind said _"prove to her who you really are"_

The former smith put forth a clawed feet and gave a few timid steps towards her.

"I'm sorry" he said searching her eyes. When Polgara didn't back away nor did she flinch, Durnik continued fervently "I didn't want it to be this way. They changed it" he growled with uncharacteristic bitterness then his face soften again "but my heart is still the same, Mistress Pol. I…I wouldn't dream of forcing you to love me…but please, let me at least be at your side…as a friend…like before"

Seconds later the sorceress was on him, crushing him in a bear hug and crying her heart out like a heart broken child.

"By the gods" she kept sobbing, holding him with surprising strength.

Confused, a bit taken aback, Durnik returned the hug and let out a shuddering sigh. It was over; their seemly endless grief had come to an end. He looked at the sky, muttering thanks to the gods he had so hated in the last months. All had been worth it just in exchange of that single embrace.

The winged creature then looked at the woman weeping uncontrollably between his strong arms and overwhelming sadness invaded his heart one more time. He had hurt her so much. Once again guilt took twisted his heart.

"It was necessary" Poledra said, watching with a strange expression the scene before her. Her voice was gentle and her eyes shone with a melancholic sort of happiness. Then her ears went back and she bared her teeth "But if you hurt her again now, I will bit your back side. I've noticed that men-thing hate that"

His eyes filled with tears, Durnik smiled at her. If it wouldn't be for that she-wolf, he would have been nothing more than an insane raving monster back at the Dark City, in Mallorea. The former smith's face darkened at the memory of his resurrection.

A/N: Thanks to all of you who have added me to their favorite story list ) I would also love to have some reviews from you, just to know what you think of the story?


	21. reborn

I would like to thanks Natalia Potter for her assistance on the grammar and for some of her usefull addings on this chapter :)

* * *

The pain was unbearable. Fire engulfed him and his vision blurred. There were voices around him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying or to whom they belong. All was darkness and he felt terribly cold. It only grew more intense as death claimed his soul.

Slowly, awareness come back to him. He knew that he _was_…but Durnik wasn't sure _where_ he was. It was neither dark nor light and he wonder what it was that surrounded him. Finally the blacksmith accepted that he had no words to name it. It was like a huge blanket where nearly all sensations were gone, except for an overpowering sense of happiness

All his fears and worries were gone, all physical bothers non-existant. There was no one or anything around him, but still, there was that beautiful sensation of being with people he had loved and had lost in his life. They were all back with him. His mother, his father, his master. There was a soundless welcoming coming from nowhere. But something was spoiling that perfection…someone was missing.

Durnik tried to clear his mind to remember who it was, why he felt empty somehow, but that overwhelming happiness, as though it had a consciousness of its own, hushed his worries.

"_Durnik"_ a voice said suddenly. It was unemotional and the smith resent it momentarily for interrupting his passive ecstasy.

"_Who are you?"_ the thought was sent out. Durnik suddenly realized, a bit disturbed, that he had no mouth…nor hands, nor legs or anything else. The sensation of being part of that huge space was very strange.

"_Its __unimportant"_ the dry voice said _" How do you feel?"_

"_Happy"_ Durnik answered automatically.

"_All bad things are gone aren't they?"_

"_Yes"_ he would have liked to smile but remembered again that he had no substance. He wondered what has happened to his body.

"_Your body is with the gods"_ the voice informed him

"_Why would they take it away?" _Durnik asked, puzzled

"_You don't need it here."_

"_Why not? Where am I?"_

"_Don't you remember anything?"_

"_I…"_ the imagine of the infuriated face of an old man flashed on his mind along with the desperate shrieked of a woman. Durnik fought to grasp that memory but he felt as if his emotions and memories were smother. _"Does it really matter?"_

"_Not much…Are you __completely happy? Do you have everything you want here?"_

An automatic "yes" was about to be its answered, but Durnik stopped himself. Another memory flashed across his mind, the memory of a black haired woman with soft blue eyes standing near him with a little baby wrapped in blankets on her arms. It was a memory so engraved in his mind that nothing, not even death, could take it away from him.

The other presences assured him that, in time, that woman he love so much would be joining them all, that he needed to wait….but Durnik knew better. Polgara was immortal, eternal. Time didnt hurt her and and death could not touch her. They would be apart forever.

A silent tear escaped the nothingness where he floated and the numb happiness vanished, leaving him empty, confused and terribly sad.

"_What would you give to be back with her?"_ the voice pressed

"_My very life_" Durnik murmured sadly.

"_You have already give__n that to fulfill a part of your task"_ the voice said, unamused _"Would you give your death for her?"_

Death had felt nice at first. It had been nothing but the absence of pain and sorrow and of fear of confusion and worries. But that idealized imagine crumbled to dust when Durnik understood that it also meant the complete absence of love.

"_I would" _he said firmly

"_Done"_ the dry voice murmured, and then it was also gone.

There was a sudden explosion of light all around him and it stabbed at his eyes mercilessly. Durnik tried to shield them away but he couldn't move. His body was back, he was able to feel it. But it felt deathly cold and it refused to obey his commands.

Suddenly, Durnik felt the overwhelming presence that he had felt in the Caverns of Ulgo, when the god of the strange men that lived on the heart of the mountain itself, had appeared. Seven strange beings were now staring down at him.

One of them was huge, covered completely in a heavy looking armor. His head seemed somehow overlaid with that of a bull and his expression was fearsome and full of pride.

"This is completely absurd" the bull god growled.

"Not so absurd, brother-mine" another of the strange figures said. "He has accepted freely. And life will be his just reward"

This god was dressed in a golden tunic. His head was that of a lion, covered with golden jewelry and wearing a sly and somewhat arrogant expression

"_Reward_" a younger- looking god snorted. His bear's head was as fearsome as the arendish god's, but there was a roughish and playful light on his eyes.

"He will be back with his beloved one" a soft voice said. "And to recover what once was seemly forever lost hast no price indeed"

The speaker was of inhuman perfection, as white as the light surrounding him. His face was darkened with traces of an unspeakable, endless grief, but there was a timid spark of hope in his eyes.

Belar's face lighten up slightly with that poetic concept.

"Thou speak the truth. Love is the most noble emotion and the only true reward to the bravest warrior"

Nedra, the lion-god, smiled sardonically and turned to the bull-god, known as Chaldan, who was still scowling darkly

"Thou, dear brother, hath chosen to father the warrior race. Thou, most than any of us, must be aware of the responsibility of rewarding our bravest warriors"

"Warrior?! A _blacksmith_" Chaldan corrected distastefully

"Thy armour was forged by the holy blacksmiths. Thou speak of their human counterparts with too much contentment" A slim and very tall god hissed from one corner. His skin was green and his head was that of a sneak. This god's dead eyes were fixed on his sulking brother

Chaldan roared furiously and took a step towards the snake god. Both Belar and Nedra jumped between them.

"Thou shalt take care not to show disrespect to thy elder brothers, Issa" Chaldan growled fiercely, freeing his armed hand from Belar's grip.

"I just speak with the plain truth, Chaldan" Issa whispered, neither angry nor offended.

"The death of our brother hath upset the whole of us" a bearded god said. "Let us not fight among ourselves, not now nor ever again. This child's death was necessary, but also is his life. Mine beloved daughter grieves his death most keenly and I greatly fear that she will not overcome her grief. She is a most important key in the final confrontation that still must take place"

His face was serene and gentle. As soon as this god's voice was heard, all the pain and fear abandoned Durnik's heart

"It hast spoken" another white bearded god said. This one didn't inspired love, though, but a huge respect and even some fear "He who had died must live again"

"We hath agreed not to cross the line that separates living ones from dead ones, father" Chaldan said "Who of us will then be allowed to cross that line?"

"None" the other gods stared at Ul silently "These rules thou hath placed upon thyselves once the world was created cant be broken. What is dead, dead shall stay. But thy children were never tied to that restriction"

"The Child of Light hast the power in his hands to cross the impenetrable wall of death" Aldur said "He shall complete what we will start"

"Are we going to send him back still dead?" Belar asked incredulously

"Not dead, but not alive either" Ul answered "We shall send him back not as our child but as our messenger. Durnik the blacksmith is gone and dead. But his soul will be back on earth and he shall be an _efrit_"

Durnik felt completely nervous and apprehensive when all the gods nodded approvingly. He wanted to ask them so many things but his voice refused to come out.

The seven figures formed a circle around him. They took each other's hands and the light surrounding them expanded till they all were engulfed by it. The last thing Durnik saw of the gods was a bear's head that smiled and winked roguishly at him.

There was a deafening sound in the distance and suddenly the floor gave away below him. He was falling and the sound kept getting louder and louder. Durnik didn't realized that it was the sound of his own terrified voice.

The light gave way to complete darkness and suddenly everything stopped.

The wind was howling on his ears, but Durnik strangely didn't feel a single breeze touching his burning skin. There was ground below him, but he couldn't feel it either. It was like before, when he was death…in that place. The only difference was that, this time, the familiar presences, that feeling of belonging was gone. Now he was feeling completely alone.

Slowly his eyes opened.

The stars were shining above in the skies and the full moon illuminated the putrefacted lands of the City of Endless Night. A howl was heard in the distance, followed by another one. The raving laments of the hounds of Torak.

Durnik fought to stand and he saw a hideous talon resting near his head. He jumped back, but it followed. Terrified the former sendarian smith realized that it was _his_ hand.

Panicked, fighting to breath, the former blacksmith stared with horror at his body. It was of a sickly grey color and his legs were short and hideous with clawed feet. A snake like tail twisted with life of its own between his legs, producing a whispering sound.

A deafening shriek of horror resounded on the lands of the Dark City. One that repeated itself until it began to reflect the dark emotions boiling in the blood of what once was the most good of all man.

Full of hate and rage, Durnik kept howling alone in the darkness, cursing with all his might the gods and his horrendous fate.

The hounds of Torak silenced their demoralized howls, and shivering they run to their lairs, trying to shield their ears from the fearsome roars of that unknown beast.


	22. Demons and Monsters

The rain hit the floor constantly and the thunders stroke the dark, dense clouds on the skies.

Every time their deafening roars were heard, Durnik the efrit covered his ears desperately. All noises, even the most subtle ones, hurt his new sensitive ears and each time a thunder stroke, he felt as if they would be penetrating his skull to stabbed his poor brain. His clawed feet clapped in the muddy earth of the dying lands of Chtol Mishrak.

Deeps howls could be heard and, so lost he was on his lamentations that Durnik didn't notice that they were sounding every time nearer him.

The rain didn't allow to distinguished anything more than a few feet away, but two incandescent greenish spots appeared in front of him and Durnik stopped. Breathing heavily, the former sendarian smith stared at the huge silhouette emerging from the darkness. The sky went silent, and now he could clearly hear watery steps all around him and rasping breathings and low growls. Huge dog-like animals appeared all around him, their eyes shinning and their teeth as large as a human's hand.

"Intruder" the beast that was standing right in front of him moaned insanely, its eyes bulging out, its dog like face twisted into an expression of total desperation.

"Murderer!" another one barked and Durnik turned slowly to stare at another of the creatures.

"You killed our god!" One at his right accused, wining and moaning.

"Murderer!" the others howl

"I have not hurt your god" Durnik said a bit detached. But even then fright was slowly passing the dense cloud of confusion covering his mind. "Let me pass"

"Murderer!" The biggest one in front of him howled and leaped at him.

Durnik raised his arm to protect his head and the huge beast's jaws closed on his arm with a sickening sound…but pain never come. Furious, Durnik hit the beast's head with his fist and it crushed like a fruit. The hound of Torak fell limply at his feet…and the figure shimmered and turned into the form a man.

Durnik gasped and retreated, feeling nauseous at the sight of the mutilated body of his enemy. The others hounds, maddened by the death of their god, ignored the horrible death of their leader and jumped howling and frothing against the intruder of their land.

"Stop it!" Durnik ordered, trying to free himself from the biting jaws of the hounds. He knew their sharp and huge teeth were inside him, rasping his bones, penetrating his very flesh, but he could not feel it. It was only the constant hacking and pushing what was starting to get him angry "I don't want to hurt you!"

One of them bit into his leg and pushed hard, throwing the former blacksmith down to the mud. The others jumped like hyenas into the fallen efrit, without evening realizing that there was no blood around or on their muzzles despite all their biting and clawing.

Finally, pushed behind his endurance, Durnik released the burning fury that had been growing inside him and an ear-piercing roar made its way through his throat. For a moment, all rationality escaped him as he brought his huge claws down into the bodies of the hounds that were trying to make their way through his chest with their hideous muzzles. They cried out with a disturbing sound, half a dog-like bark, half a human scream. They trembled and turned slowly back into their original human forms.

Pushing them aside, Durnik twisted on the floor and turned against the other four who had released him as soon as the other two had fallen. Digging his four talons into the mud, his dark wings wide open and that whispering tail sizzling in the air, Durnik faced the hounds.

For a moment, the five beasts seemed content with only baring their teeth and growling fiercely at each other, preparing to kill or to die. Tired of waiting, one of the hounds finally leaped at the efrit and Durnik snarled and jumped against it, his fanged mouth wide open in anticipation of its encounter with the furry skin of the grolim.

When the sun come out, the fight was over. Durnik, now the only of the creatures standing, was able to see the battle field on the sunlight. The huge hounds were gone, all that was left of them were human bodies, horribly mutilated.

The taste of blood on his mouth and the smell of the already putrefying bodies made him vomit and in the silence that settled over the unpopulated Chtol Mishrak without the storm, the human cries of pain of the dying hounds resounded on his ears.

Without fury to support him, now fully aware of who he was and what he was doing, Durnik recoiled with horror at what he was seeing and fled.

The lone winged creature trembled on the corner of his dark cave while he tossed on the naked stone trying to sleep. He had been wandering those desolated lands for days, he _had_ to be tired. The notion of not having to eat, or to drink, not to even sleep, only reassured his certainty that he had become a demon, a monster.

Finally, he opened his eyes and brought those three clawed talons to eye level and stared at them. With a shuddering sob, Durnik covered his eyes with those claws and wept.

"Why me?" he moaned

"One wonders why the men-folk always ask that" a female-voice commented suddenly

Durnik jumped to his feet and tried to search a place where to hide, but the small cave give no shelter to hide his hideous body from the eyes of whatever poor human had entered his little refugee. Finally he crouched and stared at the entrance of the cave…just to see a wolf sitting calmly there, its muzzled open and its tongue lolling out. For some reason, that expression- if it could be called that- offended him.

"He…hello little fellow" Durnik greeted the animal and he wiped his eyes with the back of his talon while he scanned the entrance of the cave, searching for the person that had spoken before.

"Greetings" The wolf answered and Durnik jumped slightly and gaped at the it. The wolf's tail moved from right to left and her ears went slightly backward. She bared her teeth at him, showing her sharp gangs. The intense scrutiny of the creature and its crouched position unnerved her "One advises that wolves are hard preys. You probably will want to stalk another beast"

"By the gods!" Durnik shouted, his voice sounding a bit shrill even to his own ears "You…you are talking!"

"Of course I am" The wolf said matter of factly and relaxed her tense posture once the former smith closed his fanged mouth. Then her muzzle opened again and her tongue lolled out. "One is rather surprised at discovering that one can be alarmed or surprised about anything after all that has happened"

"I become a beast!" Durnik said, covering his ears desperately with crisped talons. The trembling of his voice clearly indicated that he was on the verge of an hysteric break down "I can understand the beasts!"

"You are no beast" The wolf informed "You are an efrit"

There it was that word again, the same the gods had spoken before bringing him back to life. The wolf seem to know more than him about his position…and was talking to him about it.

"Just shut up" Durnik moaned and turned back to his dark corner on the far end of the cave

"This is a nice lair" the she-wolf commented after a few minutes of silence. Durnik started and turned to stared at her. "One has walked a long way and now wonders if you could share your lair"

What was done was done, Durnik finally conceded. If he could hear the animals talk, there was no way to change it…or forget that he could. Hearing a second voice after weeks of solitude had awaken on him a terrible sense of loneliness. The notion of being alone again with his memories was terrifying,

"You…you can stay if you want" he said softly "There is enough room for the two of us"

"Good" the wolf said and sat "One thanks the sharing"

There was a long uncomfortable silence.

"Hum…" Durnik started hesitantly and turned to her "May I…hum…ask you a personal question?" He felt a little foolish and awkward but he supposed that if animals could talk, they probably have modals too.

" Personal?" the wolf asked, her head falling slightly to one side "What is that?"

"Something… private"

" There is no privacy among wolves" she said proudly "We share everything"

"Well, that's exactly where I'm going" Durnik said "I've heard that wolves goes in packs. Where is yours?"

"One's pack is far away" the wolf said and she actually sounded sad "and one's pup is sick. " Her golden eyes fixed firmly on his. Durnik moved uncomfortably under those firm and penetrating eyes"…because of you."

For a moment, he stared incomprehensibly at her-

" What?" He thought that he had misunderstood what she had said, but then something occurred to him" You aren't one of those monsters are you?" he asked accusingly, standing on his short massive legs.

"No." The wolf answered calmly. "One's daughter isn't either. You know her…and you love her"

"You must really be confusing me…" Durnik couldn't finished his sentence. There was a murmuring sound on his ears and a blue light engulfed the form of the wolf. The animal shimmered and changed within the light. When it was gone…a woman hauntingly familiar was standing in front of him "Polgara!"

"No…men call me Poledra" the woman corrected calmly and once the initial shock had passed, Durnik noticed clear differences between these woman and the one he loved. Poledra's hair, for one thing, was tawny instead of black and her eyes were not of that profound blue, but were of a golden color. Her face was what had confused him right at first, but even their features were different in some ways. For once, this woman's face was sad and melancholic, where Polgara's have always had an expression of fierce determination.

What the she-wolf had said before was suddenly completely clear.

"You…your are Belgarath's wife!" Durnik concluded "You are Mistress Pol's mother" And when those words stopped resounding on the cave, Durnik nodded politely to her "I'm honored to meet you, ma'am"

Poledra nodded back to him and Durnik frowned, a deep preoccupation reflected on his face.

"What do you mean she is sick? What's wrong with her?"

"Your death had caused her a great pain" Poledra said sadly " No words can shake her out of it. That's way the god's brought you back. You two are meant to be together"

"I cant be with her looking like this!" Durnik said, shocked and then his monstrous face soften "Be together?...you mean she…does love me?"

Poledra laughed

"You really should pay closer attention to what's happening around you. She had fallen in love only twice in her life. The first time her heart was broken. That's why she was afraid to accept the fact that love have come to her one more time the first day she placed her eyes on you " She sighed "It was broken again nonetheless, I fear"

Durnik face contorted into an expression of deep sorrow.

"I've hurt her" he moaned and turned away from the light and walked again to the darkness of the cave as it could protect him from the pain he was feeling.

"It wasn't your fault" Poledra pointed out

"If I wouldn't have jumped against that…that magician like I did nothing of this would have happened!" Durnik defended his theory vehemently.

"You were _supposed_ to attack Zedar and you were _supposed_ to die" she countered again ".and you are suppose to be alive again"

"To live like a demon…a monster…" He walked merged with the darkness. At least within the shadows, his grey, hideous body didn't seem to be so out of place.

"No, you are neither of them. Besides, demons and monsters are two different things" Poledra informed calmly

"I have wings, claws and tail." Durnik said with uncharacteristic sarcasm "I think that's enough to be called a demon"

Poledra sighed.

"Demons are evil spirits with substance of their own from another universe…or world, whatever you want to call it.. They use humans as a medium to be here. Our medium are the gods"

Durnik stared at her incomprehensibly

"There are four worlds as far as we know" Poledra continued " The world of demons, the world of earth, the world of men and the world of the gods. They all must be connected and there are creatures, like you and I and like monsters, that serve as a connection between those four worlds."

She fell silent and stared at him. Durnik realized that she was waiting for him to confirm that he was understanding.

"Al…right" Durnik stammered, trying to keep his mind open. After all that has happened, he thought sadly, it may be time to reestablished the base of his believes.

"Its still unknown what's the purpose of the connection between the world of demons and ours, but they use the morinbs as a medium to this land. Earth itself…what you humans use to call beasts, and birds and plants, we all have a world of our own and the earth used to have monsters as a medium to human world…but when Torak raised the orb against the earth, the monsters went mad. Only the dryads were spared and only through them a peaceful treaty between men and land is maintained. It was supposed to be eternal and constant in all the world" She sighed "Now monsters kill humans…and humans hurt the land. The gods and other men use us as a medium to each other's world." She continued her explanation "Sorcerer and sorceress are closer to men-kind while you and all of the efrit, are closer to the gods"

"But why would they do this to me?" Durnik protested, stepping out to the light.

"Because you were supposed to be back"

"I understand that part!" he said vehemently "But…but…why like this?!" he showed her his talons and spread his membranous wings "Why like a monster…a demon-like thing!"

"We are all different." Poledra shrugged and her eyes were suddenly amused "I have noticed that men-folk pay a great deal of attention to each other's appearance, but its really not that important. It doesn't matter how we look like, but how and what we are inside. I can be an owl or a wolf, a woman or a bear, but I'm still the same one inside"

Durnik ponder about that for a moment. He knew she was right. It was somehow the same way he regarded the nobility. For him, the only thing that separated a farmer from a king and a serf of an arendish noble was the fancy clothes and the jewelry. Some men could wrapped themselves in gold and infinite luxury, but that only showed that they had more material positions…but not that they were better men. Could it be possible that, in some obscure way, it could also be applied for demons and wolves and owls and monsters?

But then again…Polgara was so beautiful, so perfect…to imagine himself forcing her to be with him. Love tend to be selfish, but Durnik wasn't like that. He loved her too much for that

"I don't want her to feel obligated to be with me" he said and sat on the floor. "If I go back, she may never find love again. In time…she will forget" his voice broke "And she will find the right men for her. Its probably better if she believes that I'm still dead"

Poledra laughed again

"How little you know her. Do you really think she would turn you down just because you look different now? You are underestimating her . Polgara is very wise, though sometimes she is stubborn and a bit impulsive. You would be amazed at how little she cares on how anyone looks like. Right now, she is willing to left everything she has…and everything she is, just to be at your side."

Durnik thought of that for a long time. He stared at the dark corner that had been his home for the last weeks and then he stood and turned. He raised his sad eyes from the floor and fixed them on the golden eyes of his companion.

"I'm not doing any good sitting here alone anyway" he concluded "I still think it would be just wrong to ask her anything… inappropriate but at least I could be there for her …as a friend…like before"

"She will want more than that, just like before." Then the whispering sound was heard again and the figure of Poledra shimmered and shone. When the light dissipated, the she-wolf was standing calmly on the cave's entrance. "One's daughter will be happy to see her mate again"

Durnik coughed at the word "mate" and his grey face turned red. The wolf glance outside. The sky was of all kinds of orange and violent shades. The sun was setting in the horizon and the night was once again settling in. The wolf outstretched her paws and yawn

"When the light is back we will begin our walk through the woods to the water. Now I will sleep"

And with that said, she calmly laid down on her belly, placed her muzzle on her crossed frontal paws and closed her eyes.

Durnik contemplated the she-wolf for a while and then he sighed and stared at the settling night and at the stars.


	23. In the storming skies

They had been walking through the forest of the abandoned lands of the Dark City for two long days. In those periods of time, Durnik had come to learn more and more about his new body. With some chagrin, he realized that it was easier and faster for him to walk on all his four. He had also discovered that that stupid whispering tail seem to truly have a life of its own. It was always waving irritably on the air ignoring his commands to stay still.

The she-wolf was very quiet and she never talked unless she really had something to say. Durnik discovered that wolves were probably much better company than many of the humans he known.

After the night of the second day, they finally reached what the wolf called "the waters". It was the sea, grey and seemly endless, whispering its eternal song to the indifferent sky and the dead lands.

The she-wolf walked towards the shore of the cliff, peered down and then sat to wait for him. The former smith abandoned his silent contemplation of the huge surface of the ocean and waited.

"One needs to go back to the other beast's territory. There is much to do there yet"

Durnik glanced at the sea, then at her.

"Hum…remember what you told me before? About you taking me to Mistress Pol?"

"Yes"

"I thought they were still here somewhere" The smith said sadly when the wolf evidently couldn't take him where he wanted and needed to be. His face saddened again and tears bulged up on his eyes. He couldn't even take a ship…not looking the way he was.

"You have got wings. Use them" The wolf resolved his unspoken dilemma. She actually sounded amused.

Durnik started and glanced apprehensible over his back to stared disconsolately at those new pair of arms protruding unnaturally from his back

"I don't know how they work…I have never…hum…fly before"

The wolf actually sighed and then he heard that murmuring sound again. When Durnik turned, Poledra was standing in front of him. The sorceress reached out with her hands and took hold of his head. Then she frowned in concentration.

All sorts of imagines flooded into Durnik's mind. His eyes widen in surprise and amazement as Poledra kept passing to him all the instincts of a flying bird. Then, she stepped back.

"There" she said "you know how now"

Durnik stared at her silently for a moment and then turned his head to stare at his wings. They weren't hideous to his eyes anymore. He spread them experimentally.

"I never realized how many things were involved in flying" he murmured caressing the soft membrane of the wings, "Every tiny bone has it uses…there is nothing really out of place…"

"It is certainly practical. And it isn't so hard to fly once you get used to it" Durnik turned to her again, abandoning his examination. The golden-eyed woman smiled "Go"

The efrit hesitated and then nodded politely at her.

"I thank you for all you have done for me…And I promised I will do everything I can for her…" he smiled sheepishly "Die again if I have too"

Poledra shrugged and her form shimmered again. Within minutes, the wolf was once again sitting next to him

"That wont be necessary" she assured him and her tail waved from side to side "It has been nice to meet you"

Durnik smile grow warm and then he walked slowly to the cliff's shore. The sea crushed against its bottom far below. Its howling was deafening and huge stones raised from the steaming waters like fangs of an unseen and immense beast. He swallowed hard and jumped.

As soon as his feet abandoned the firm security of the earth and the air caressed his wings, all rational thought was pulled back on his mind and the instructions Poledra had engraved on his mind jumped forth to take their place. Those dark new members seem to suddenly have a life of their own and they spread to caught the cold air currents to stop his descending. Then, after gliding inches away from the water's surface for some time, they flapped, lifting him effortlessly higher and higher to the skies.

Behind him, the she-wolf raised her muzzle and howled, saying her good-byes, and sending her blessings to the efrit. Then she turned and walked back into the lands of Chtol Mishrak to complete the task that has been set up for her from immemorial days.

There was an ecstasy to flying that Durnik had never known before. Floating there, with just the immensity of the sea below him and the dark sky above, he felt oddly free. He didn't have to hide there or to fear.

But soon, that sensation of peace passed. After a few hours his passive flying grew more daring and he jumped and turned into the air like a playful bird. Experimenting, he combined all the basic movements that were now part of him. into strange pirouettes that would have been the delight, and envy, of the most gifted acrobats in the whole world.

But that game also grew tiring. Durnik grew bored. The first few minutes he had been learning, then he had been playing, but now, as if being pushed by an imperative need, he wanted to move faster.

The ocean seem irritably calm and the wind seem not to blow strong enough. Durnik flapped harder and greeted his teeth. The calm air seem to hurt him, to burn his skin. The whispering waves below seemed to try to smoother his anxious soul. All rationality slowly slipped past him as that overpowering need pressed him to move faster.

Roaring, the efrit plunged towards the sea, feeding on the rushing of the wind and its roaring sound resounding on his ears. Just before he hit the water, the creature opened them again and stroke at the air to raised like a shutting arrow.

He descended with vertiginous speed and then raised abruptly over and over again, roaring and ordering the world itself to move at his will. The air howled around him and dense black clouds gathered above, coming obediently at his command. The sea began to protest and its fury only increased the strength of the air currents caressing the burning skin of the efrit.

Soon, he was cutting through the skies like a knife and the yearning only kept growing stronger and stronger. Durnik lost himself in that hunger and feed of that sensation of being part once again of things stronger than himself. He was roaring delightfully and dimly he remember parts of his past.

When he was young, he had always been stronger than most people his age and he had been forced to pull back many instincts to prevent himself from hurting others. He remembered how, some times, the most playful gesture could hurt those he loved.

But now, that repressing fear was gone. He didn't need to be careful here. It was only him, the winds and the endless sea.

"_Stop!"_a voice suddenly shouted on his mind and, startled, he slapped his wings to a stop.

His whole being seemed to protest. It was like if it needed that speed, it needed to fly, to be a part of the wind and the storm.

"_Don't let her down!"_ the voice ordered, stopping the efrit from plunging back into his mindless flight.

The tone of alarm on the same voice that had talked to him before so coldly detached pushed Durnik off the cloud of frantic enthusiasm that had suddenly enclosed that practical sendarian attitude that had always been his most remarkable characteristic . Now, however, both his irrationality and his good sense were replaced by fear.

Durnik was completely aware of the chaos surrounding him now. The sky was treating and the dense clouds exploded with deafening thunders and blinding lightening. The sea, like an awakening monster, twisted and roared below him. The waves merged from its surface like short living mountains before falling back onto their mother's womb with a booming sound.

"I…I cant see!" Durnik shouted back to the voice, trying to see through the dense curtain of water falling from the sky. The darkness was impenetrable in the middle of the storming sea "I need light!" the smith shouted and, as if coming to his aid, a lightning sizzled through the air, slashing at the waters below.

In that single flash of light, he clearly saw a ship below of a wolfish appearance. It was moving in the waters like a wounded whale. The screaming sailors fought against the waves that crushed into the ship with fury, trying to keep it afloat.

Durnik knew, without knowing how, that the voice didn't mean for him to save the ship however, and he kept his frantic search. Again, he moved his hand in an imperative gesture and another lightening slashed out from the clouds, but still the light it provided was too brief for being of much use.

Then, like coming from very far away, he heard a hollow cry.

A new flash of light exploded in time for him to see a lone sea bird been swallowed by the waters.

Durnik enclosed his wings and flown down to the ocean. He had to save that bird!. He didn't completely understood but the imperative urge to save it dragged him on.

The waters below the surface were as dark as the skies above. The efrit searched desperately with his eyes on those briefs explosions of light and finally saw the bird plunging limply to the enthralls of the sea. As he swam towards it, darkness fell once again.. When the next flash of light come there wasn't an albatross any more, but the pale figure of a woman of holy beauty.

"Polgara!" he gurgled desperately and kicked the water with his short legs towards her more desperately than before. That useless whispering tail between his legs proved its uses when it stopped twisting aimlessly and waved on the water, pushing him forth with much needed speed.

He reached out for her and closed his talons firmly around her wrist. Polgara opened her eyes faintly and stared incomprehensibly at him and then darkness settled over them again.

Durnik pulled her towards him. She struggled weakly against his grasp, and the efrit felt a pang on his heart but rapidly smoother it. There was no time to worry about that now. The former smith hold on tightly and pushed them both out to the surface.

Spluttering and gasping, Durnik searched for the ship. All he could see was the maddened sea and its towering waves still rising to the skies as if trying to slash out at the clouds that were so cruelly hurting it with the lashing lightening.

He glanced briefly at Polgara and her limp, unbreathing form pushed him to the verge of nearly panicking, Durnik raised his wings and spread them out. With all his might, he slapped them into the waters. The strong hurricane winds caught on their black membrane, and they were lifted to the air.

It was like if the world it self had fell into complete darkness but even then there were differences. Durnik began to distinguished ahead a spot where that same darkness was calm and unmoving.

"Land!" he realized exultantly and moved towards the far beach. Thought it seemly had been miles away, he reached it in seconds.

Trembling and sobbing, he laid the fainted sorceress down. Her eyes were opened and glazed over.

"Mi..mistress Pol..." he moeaned brokenly, caressing her cheek witgh his talons, holding tightly the silver amulet hanging from her neck.

Darkness fell over them again, and when he could see her face again, her eyes were closed her face catching a sickly color. Durnik searched for a pulse. He almost squealed in relieved when he felt a strong beating on her neck.

Then he stood and was about to use the same technique he had used back at Faldor's farm when little Garion had almost drowned after what started as a fascinating game on the creek to bring air into Polgara's lungs again.

"_No"_ the voice said to him and once again it was unemotional _"Not that way…"_

"She is dying! I have to…to make her breath again..!"

He raised his clawed foot.

"_You will kill her if you__ do that. Look at your feet, those pretty claws are like knives, you know"_ Durnik whimpered and kneeled next to her and raised his fist _"Go ahead now. Break her ribs"_ it said sarcastically _"Call Belgarath instead, would you?"_

Wild eyed, Durnik stood and run again towards the shore.

"Belgarath!" the former smith howled brokenly, searching ahead for the ship and the sorcerer.

"_Not like that!"_ the voice said irritably _"Do it like this"_

And the imagine of a forest come to his mind.

"Stop it!" Durnik demanded, running towards Polgara again and letting himself fall to his knees next to her. "You…you stupid thing!"

"_Do it my way. It will bring Belgarath to her"_

"But…"

"_She is dying"_ it remarketed calmly _"Do it"_

Durnik sobbed and closed his eyes and thought about the wood… and suddenly the water, the beach, Polgara, all was gone. Instead, all he could see where dark sad looking trees.

"By the seven gods?!" he howled and stared wildly around "What have you done?! What happened?!"

"_I didn't do anything__"_

"Where is she?!"

"_Belgarath has come to fetch her. You translocating into the woods made a most clear sound for him to follow"_

Durnik jumped to the air and flapped his dark wings, taking flight again. Miles away, the surface of the sea was still in chaos, and he flown towards it

"A…a noise?!" He shouted back to the voice. Its words were alarming and its suggestions irritating, but Durnik felt a desperate need to cling on to something…anything.

Polgara was still lying limply on the beach below him, but she wasn't alone any more. Durnik clearly recognized Mister Wolf. The old sorcerer was there with her, hugging her fiercely.

The former smith slowly descended towards them when they suddenly banished. And then a sound more deafening that the whole force of the storm was heard. He was forced to stop in midair to clear his head.

"_It was more or less like that one…"_ the voice added

Durnik landed slowly and stared with hunted eyes out to the sea.

"This is all my doing…" he moaned. ".I almost killed her"


	24. Guilt

"I couldn't bare it. I think I was very close to lose the little bit of rationality I have left." Durnik confessed to Polgara with hunted eyes.

He glanced over once at her, but there was not the hate or the anger he had expected to see. Instead, she merely looked at him with an awed expression, her eyes filled with love. That mindless adoration so evident on her face only made his pain even harder to bare.

" I follow you and that ship all the way to Camaar. And then from Camaar to the Vale of Aldur…" He broke off, remembering only half of what had happened on those long months of surveillance. There were periods of total darkness and confusing imagines. He used to reach out for her, without being able to touch her. Or so he had thought. The guilty expression grew more profound and uncalled tears run freely down his cheeks " I was so desperate to tell you about what has happened to me…about what I have done…To beg your forgiveness…"

"Oh, you silly thing" Polgara murmured and embraced the trembling efrit tenderly "All I would have cared is that you were alive"

Durnik started at her touch and pushed her tenderly away, holding her by the arms. She was pale and haggard looking. Her beautiful eyes had lost the spark of life that he had always seen there and they stared at him with a dead vacancy.

"I have almost killed you with my foolishness" he said slowly, modulating each word to try and bring the most minimum reaction to those dead eyes. Then his own grew even more hunted and filled with self loathing "And all the nightmares…It...it was me, don't you see?"

That did it. Polgara's somewhat foolish little smile slowly disappeared and she looked puzzled.

"I was desperate…" Durnik continued a bit hysterically " I was so eager to talk to you…but so horrified with letting you see me like this! I reached for you with all my might…and without realizing it I was…in a way reaching you…We connected.. our minds did. And my pain, all my nightmares passed on to you"

Polgara frowned.

"I don't think I follow you" she confessed mildly

"Efrits are magical creatures, Pol" A grave melodic voice interrupted calmly. They both turn to the glowing blue wolf sitting near by "He is "talented" now. And maybe even more than that"

Polgara turned back to the former sendarian smith. There was some light back on her eyes now, but it was the reflect of the moonlight on her tears. That dreamy smile was back on her lips.

"I cant believe this is happening" As if to make sure he was truly there, she raised one hand and caressed his smooth cheek tenderly.

Durnik stared at her.

"Are you understanding any of this?" he asked her, a bit scared by that vacant stare. "all of what I'm telling you?"

"No" she said tiredly "Not really, but I don't care much. All what you have told me were stories about things that are in the past already. All I care is that you are back and that nothing can separate us now"

"You…are very tired" Durnik noted and he stood "I will make a bed for you somewhere so you can get some rest. We can keep talking about this tomorrow"

He heard Polgara standing behind him and he turned to her. She was shaking, but her eyes were afire.

"No, we wont talk about this again. I don't care, Durnik" the sorceress said firmly when the efrit opened his fanged mouth to protest. "I'm not dead neither are you. That's all that matters."

He lowered his eyes to the ground and nodded stiffly.

"I will make that bed" He murmured and walked away.

Polgara felt her legs trembling and sat down again. She watched as Durnik gathered some huge looking leaves and some grass between two roots of a big tree. Then, the sorceress turned to her mother. Durnik had been demoralized after going through many things he just wasn't prepare for…or simply wasn't _made_ for, but Poledra was a whole different matter. There was that resentful anger on her heart again as she fixed her burning eyes on the wolf. She had abandoned her when she needed her guidance the most.

"Why?" Polgara demanded angrily "Why didn't you tell me this was going to happen? Why did you make me go through all this?"

The wolf sighed

"It wasn't my decision, Pol" Poledra said "Ul commanded me not to interfere. You have to feel the sting of the separation. He has changed a great deal and there was always the possibility you may reject him."

"I would have never done that!"

"We will never be sure now, do we? It was necessary, Polgara, find consolation on that"

Then the wolf stood, walked to her and brushed her muzzled on Pol's cheek tenderly

"Be well, my daughter"

Polgara stared at her, the tears burning on her eyes finally escaping their confinement to glide freely down her perfect face. She tried to caressed her mother's head, but her hand found nothing solid to touch. An almost unbearable pain twisted her heart for a few seconds, but Polgara finally sighed and stared at her mother gravely.

"Good bye, mother. Be careful"

"Wolves always are careful"

And then, she was gone.

Polgara felt a terrible vacancy. She wanted nothing but to just lay down in the middle of that clearing and lose herself into black oblivion. The sounds of steps startled the fainting sorceress and she fought back that terrible exhaustion that had come over her when Poledra left. Durnik was next to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly

"Just tired"

"I made something of a bed right there" the former sendarian smith said, helping Polgara to stand up. "It isn't much…but its all I could manage."

He led her to the rustic bed he had constructed between the long separated roots. Durnik helped her to sit and Polgara immediately laid down on it. She stayed there for a moment and then she chuckled.

"Only you are able to make a bed out of leaves and grass"

"Oh, it isn't so hard" he said modestly "You just need to know that leaves are hard and strong and that grass cant give much protection against the floor by itself but can be very soft with something below."

Polgara smiled warmly at him and her eyes closed. In a second, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

It wasn't the nightmares nor the obscure voices on the wind what awoke her the following day, but the smell of roasting meat. Her sleepy awareness fought a few moments between the temptation of just rolling over and fly away again into the sweep world of dreams or to come completely back home and searched the source of that fragrance to what it promised to be a delicious banquet. It was the noisy protests of her stomach what settled the matters and her eyes opened slowly to the real world.

The sun filtrated among the leaves of the trees above and the song of hundreds of birds filled the air. A curious little sparrow glanced down at her and started singing happily. Polgara smiled at it and sat.

She started violently and gasped at the sight of the thing kneeled next to the fire.

"Mistress Pol I…"

"I..Im sorry, Durnik" She interrupted and stared at him as if seeing the efrit for the first time. "I was almost certain it was nothing more than a dream" she confessed, her voice filled with awe.

Durnik smiled at her. It was a sad smile and it immediately disappeared. He fixed his eyes on the pork roasting over the fire. Last night Polgara had been so mentally and physically exhausted that Durnik knew she probably had said things she really didn't mean. What took place hadn't been much more than a re-meeting, but now was coming the real thing. He heard her soft steps on the grass and grimaced. Slowly, Durnik let go of the stick he was using to roll over the pork over the fire and waited.

Polgara sat next to him and the efrit raised his eyes to hers. They were alive with that unbreakable fire again. Durnik had always found her eyes fascinating. They could always inspired the most complex and simplest emotions on anyone lucky, or unlucky enough, to cross on their path. Right now, they unnerved him.

"Hum…I'm…I'm making supper" he explained, pointing briefly at the wild pig.

"Supper?" she sounded startled.

"You slept all day"

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

His face grew stern.

"I have disturbed your dream enough for a life time…or two"

"Yes"

There was a long silence and it was like a knife penetrating on Durnik's heart deeper and deeper as the seconds went by.

"It had been hell" Polgara continued as if talking to herself " I have lost you and it seemed that all there was left for me was insanity"

Durnik glanced at her. Pol's eyes were fixed on the fire, they were dark and clouded. Suddenly she turned back to him and the efrit was unable to advert his eyes of hers. The dark, almost black color on them slowly vanished to be replaced by a soft blue.

"But I wasn't losing my mind. What I was seeing and feeling was what _you_ were seeing and feeling. You and I are one. And as one, its just natural that all that happens to one, happens to the other, Durnik. It was hard for we both. Now its part of the past…just another nightmare that ended the instant you were back at my side."

"You didn't have to go through that" Durnik said sadly

"Yes, as a matter of fact I had. Durnik this is part of something bigger than any of us. All that has happened in our lives, happened for a reason. You said it was your fault I almost died back at the sea when you caused that storm?" The formed smith grimaced "Well, it could be said that you _died_ because of me too"

"Oh, Mistress Pol don't…"

"You died because of me, Durnik. And you lived again because of me. Its all connected" Durnik stared at her with helpless tears running down his grey cheeks. Polgara sighed and embraced him tenderly "Just let it go, Durnik. It wasn't your fault, no one was at fault"

"But it was me who caused the storm" he sobbed like a child "And it was me who sent those horrible dreams to you"

"You didn't knew I was there and you didn't realized what you were doing" Durnik felt a pang of disappointment when Polgara broke that warm embrace. Her eyes this time weren't sympathetic, but hard as gates " You could also say it was my fault for gliding along in the middle of the open sea"

Durnik snorted.

"My thoughts exactly" Polgara said sarcastically "It was an accident, Durnik. And searching for guilty in an accident is the stupidest thing anyone can do"

"What about the dreams?"

Polgara rolled her eyes upwards and sighed. But then a roughish smile appeared on her face and she glanced at him.

"Everything has a price" she said philosophically " I think it would have been unfair if you received the full blow of fate if we both are going to get the delightful benefits of your coming back"

She caressed his leg lightly. Durnik face turned an angry red and his black eyes bulged out

"Mistress Pol!"

The sorceress laughed a rich melodic laugh to which the efrit, once he recovered, joined timidly.

_"Its done"_

_"So it seems"_

_"Its my turn then"_

_"Indeed"_

_"Done"_


	25. Child of darkness

Okey, Im back. Im sorry it took so long to update but my computer broke down. I thought I had left it hunging, but I have not.It seemed that that was the end and it sucked :P Moving on with it, then.

* * *

The moon above was bright and huge; its round silhouette and its beautiful pure whiteness verged on perfection

The moon above was bright and huge; its round silhouette and its beautiful pure whiteness verged on perfection. He had never paid attention to such petty things like the moon and the stars, for him the only important thing was his god. But now, he was gone, dead and had left a huge vacancy on his heart. Before, the world was perfect, it had a reason to be, all had its whys answered but now there was that ominous why floating like a miasma everywhere. Why his god? Why had he had to loose?.

He had searched for answers, for a new reason to be, until his legs gave way below him and he fell on the ground not to rise up again. Now, death was near, he could feel its cold breath on his back and neck and he didn't even care. He even year for it, its embrace, to be swallow up again for something bigger than himself, bigger than anything else on this cruel, senseless world.

Sudden terror invaded his heart as his body began to tremble and he whimpered. Loneliness was so painful on those last minutes. All his pack had left him, abandoned him to whither and to die swallowed on his own desperation. They said that the grolims would help them, that they would give them reasons for what has happened, a reason to go on, but he knew better. The grolims were as lost and desperate as they were. Everything was over.

A tear escaped his huge green eyes. With great effort he stood up and raised his dark, covered with sharp teeth muzzle and howled to the moon. Then, trembling he fall down again and closed those glowing eyes for he hoped would be the last time.

First it begun like a dream. Something was eating his legs, chewing so very slow. Then something got inside him and rasped his lungs, his throat his sensitive nostrils. And suddenly it was all too clear that it was no dream.

Howling and whimpering he jumped in pain and stared wildly around him. Everything had become fire and smoke. The earth itself had become hell.

Terrified, the hound of Torak looked up and searched frantically for the moon. It was there, covered by smoke, but at least there for him. And then, a huge darkness covered its form, covered the stars. It kept expanding in both right and left, swallowing the light, reflecting the fire below. The darkness had a meeting point, a huge trunk higher than the towers of the long gone iron tower that had been right there, bigger than anything the hound had ever seen.

On top of that living mountain there was a long, reptilian thing that moved from side to side, roaring, howling, belching fire out of its serpent-like face.

"Dragon God!" the hound barked, first terrified, then exultantly. He howled again and again, but this time in some sort of religious ecstasy

The dragon roared furiously to the skies and its huge wings flapped furiously till its huge momentum raised from the earth. The moon was there no more. The last thing the hound saw was his god, rising above and turning to the west and then, the fire engulfed his form, silencing his roars of triumph.

* * *

Remember to be nice with me and leave a review if you read it ) Its always conforting to know someone is reading one's work.

* * *


	26. Fire

I KNEW something was wrong with this chapter _SOMETHING_ was wrong but for the life of me I coudnt place it even if it was so obvious. I put Urgit instead of Urvon, read it three times searching for errors and still coudnt realize my mistake. What was worst is that I was _thinking_ of making a chapter with Urgit and Zakath and my mind had the name Urgit joined with "King of the murgos" all those times and still I didnt realized I was puting the wrong name x-D Thank you a lot myvantage84 for pointing it out for me D

* * *

Urvon, the third discipline of Torak, was desperate. Everything was falling apart. His grolims, all of them, were completely demoralized. Their brains had practically shut down and the best of them could say only one single coherent sentence: "How could he loose?"

He had tried with all possible means to pull them all out of their desperation. His most horrible threats and all his "torture to death all the weaklings" orders had fallen into the ears of more weaklings. He went so far as to do it himself immolating on the spot several grolims who had ignored on their babblings his commands. But soon, he was a overwhelmed by tearful eyed grolims, begging to be put to death.

He then tried a different approach and did something he had never done before: he begged them to recover their senses. He dusted off old prophecies to try and find something to show them and bring them hope, but so far, he had no luck at all and the future of religion was very grim.

Sadly, not all of Angarak was immersed on the same crisis. At first, everything had been absolutely quiet. The war was suddenly interrupted and no Angarak on the whole field made a single move or utter a single word for a period of time of several heart beats. They all felt the sudden disconnection of their mental bound with their god. And then, all explode and fell into absolute chaos.

Urvon shuddered at the memory. The docile and stupid thulls were suddenly fierce and blood thirsty. They jumped against all grolim they could find and killed them in the most horrible ways, taking special pleasure on their desperate screams.

The malloreans turned away from the retreating armies of the west, missing the most perfect opportunity of taking all finally defeating them once and for all and attacked the murgos who were totally incapable of reacting, having been more keenly affected by Torak's death.

The Nadraks, the betrayer Nadraks, merged themselves on the lines of the Tolnedrans, Sendarians and Drasnian armies.

Months later, the situation had stabilized…but had not improved at all. The malloreans had the murgos cornered in the confines of the mountains. The thulls still hunted grolims with amazing efficiency and there were rumors of some quite celebrations for the death of Torak on the lands of the Nadraks.

They would all pay for ruining his chances of being the king of the world. Every one of them. There was only one thing that stopped his descending into the heads of the useless kings and emperors that were ruling the angaraks…that hideous hunchback.

Urvon walked slowly towards the window and stared moodily outside. He only needed something to pull his grolims out of their despair, something that would give him the power to chastise the heretics that populated both the East and the West.

His eyes widen and he jumped startled. He had to rub his eyes and blinked several times before giving credit to what he was seeing. One of the mountains was moving…moving towards them! It had wings and fire was falling out of its hideous head.

The last discipline of Torak yelped horrified and run towards the stairs. The dungeon! He would we safe there.

As he run down the stairs, a deafening shriek stunned him and he tried to take a hold of the wall as the stairs started to tremble below his feet. But the wall itself resisted as well and shook and trembled, as if escaping his touch. He lost his balance and fell, hitting every soft spot of his body, or so it seemed to him. Finally the floor welcomed him with a cold hard blow. His vision erupted into a blinding flash of white light and then it faded into complete darkness.

He couldn't breathe and felt as if he would be burning alive. Dazed, he thought that it shouldn't be this hot. He wasn't at the deserts of Cthol Murgos, anymore. Slowly, he opened his eyes, moaning at the pain he felt_ everywhere_.

He drew in a sharp breath and he jumped to his feet, ignoring the now irrelevant pain.

Fire was devouring his temple and his tower. There were rubbles and dead grolims everywhere. The survivors were all standing in the middle of what had been his own personal fortress. Their heads raised to the sky, kneeled in sheer adoration, their eyes fixed on the most horrible and huge creature he had ever seen.

Its body rose endlessly to the darkened sky and the shadows forming two wings erupting from it's back covered the sun. Its skin was red and the fire reflected on it like if on a lake of blood. Its eyes were nothing but two balls of fire that seemed to contain the trapped sun. And they were fixed on him.

"Thou must know" it hissed and its words caressed the whimpering Urvon like the hot air around them.

The dark wings covering the sky suddenly closed and the dragon descended elegantly, putting its clawed feet on the ground. Its descending produced a terrible thunderous sound. Urvon felt to his knees, moaning hysterically. The beast moved towards him heavily. It was so huge that the magician couldn't even get to see its head clearly. The only thing he could see where it's burning eyes.

"What hast happened?" that question seemed to fill the world as if now, the air they breathed was its hissing voice.

Urvon could only whimper incoherently. The grolims around him were still frozen in sheer adoration, but he could only think of just how painfully he would die at the feet of this demon.

"Talk!" The dragon roared, slashing at the earth with its long tail and opening its wings. A puff of smoke emerged from its beak as some flames managed to escape from between its corners.

"Oh, my god!" Urvon wailed, covering his head with his short and fat arms.

"Aye, Urvon" The dragon purred "Thy god and god of all men." When Urvon raised his head to stare with awe at the dragon, for a moment, he thought to see some fear and confusion on the reptilian face of the beast. "The Child of Light hast come to me and hast defied mine power. We both contended and fought." It paused again and its huge momentum trembled for a moment "…Cthrag Yaska…" it whispered with indescribable hate."…and oblivion….What hast happened?"

Urvon was too terrified and confused to analyze the situation so he simply did something that was alien to him. He told the truth

"You…Thou hath lost, my god…The heretic Rivan King ki…killed thee. Or so the hounds and the grolims of Cthol Mishrak hast said"

The eyes of the dragon flashed with renew hate and rage

"Killed?" he repeated, opening his wings to their fullest extent and standing to his full height "Killed?! How can thy all believe that a mere mortal hast the power to destroy the most powerful of gods!" He shrieked." Even with Cthrag Yaska by his side, his inferior power couldn't stand mine own! I have been chose to rule the world all! I can't be destroyed!"

"Thou have all the truth, master!" said Urvon, falling down on his knees again and vowing deeply, his forehead touching the ground. The grolims behind the dragon imitated the discipline of Torak and started prying in a long forgotten tongue.

"I shall bring together all of my angaraks to awash the lands of the heretics child of my betrayer brothers with their blood! And he who dared to be called the God Slayer shall suffer forever the most hideous of torments to serve as an example to all whom faith is weaker even than their hearts and minds!" As soon as he started, the god of the Angaraks stopped his enraged declaration of war. He was staring, as if in a trance, at one of his scaled and clawed hands. His eyes widen and his breathing became agitated. A low moan of frustration escaped his fanged mouth as that same claw stayed as it was, ignoring the dragon's efforts to change it and mold it at his will.

He tried with his wings, with his other claw with his legs, but the reality was unwilling and resisting with no problems at all his most powerful efforts to bend it to his will.

"No…" he whimpered. "Change! Accursed thee! Change!!"

As he fought vainly, he remembered…the cruel words of the Rivan King…that awful sense of loneliness…the shining sword…pain…oblivion…death.

His mind was swallowed by the fire of his rage and he shrieked again, making his grolims and his discipline screamed in pain as that hideous noise seemed to perforate their ears. He jumped to the skies and expanded his wings, flapping with all his might, elevating like a living storm to the skies and flew with terrible speed towards the west, in search of revenge.


	27. Smoke

The Twins were worried

The Twins were worried. It wouldn't matter just how many times they read them neither the Mrin or the Darine codex would show anything else. The only thing they were all sure of was that a huge catastrophe was about to fall upon the Island of the Winds.

Belgarath got in contact with them every day, asking if there were any news. They were forced to answer always with the same unsatisfying report: nothing new. Belgarath would stay quiet, would thank them and say "If you do, let me know". And the twins would answer "We will" repressing the "as we always do". Belgarath's little facade was good and would trick easily anyone who really didn't know him. But the twins were not one of those. They knew that the old sorcerer's continual re-checking were not to request information about the prophecies. And though they were a bit ashamed to admit it, most of their own worries were not about the prophecies either.

Beltira sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Do you believe…?" he asked hesitantly

"…she is al right?" Belkira finished for him "I hope she has not…"

"…hurt herself. This is my fault"

"To trust her…"

"…deserves no blame. You may be right…"

"…but still"

Belkira put a comforting arm around his brother's shoulder. Errand, the sandy haired child, was eating near by. He raised his blue eyes from the plate and stared intently at the two old men. Beltira felt his gaze and when he turned to look at him, a soft smile drawn itself on the child's face. Beltira felt suddenly at ease after that and he smiled right back.

"Yo, useless pigeons!"

The shout startled them both and they run towards the window. Beldin was down there, fighting to reach the tower, a long strain of blood marking his painful advance. The twins run towards the door and down the stairs to the aid of their wounded brother.

"We have to…hide." The dwarf gasped. "It's coming!"

"What are you…"

"…talking about?"

"What…"

"Stop talking like that, you idiots!" Beldin barked and pushed them away from him.

Suddenly a deafening howl was heard. Before they could even react a current of hot wind washed them all. It brought terrified howls of hundreds of beasts.

"Hide!" Beldin urged them and run towards the tower.

The twins stared wide eyed at the horizon. The mountains of Ulgo were engulfed in flames and among the clouds of storm and smoke, one moved, two balls of fire on its center.

Beldin suddenly realized he was running alone and he cursed bitterly and returned to drag the horrified twins towards the only refugee available.

"Errand!" Beltira gasped when they entered and was about to run upstairs in search of the child but Errand was already running towards them.

They gathered their wills as the sky darkened but the howl of the attacker grew so intense that prevented any attempt to concentrate. They screamed in pain and covered their ears in a vain effort to smother that hideous noise.

The tower begun to tremble and they could hardly breathe as all around them suddenly became fire and darkness.

"Wake up!" The voice of his brother come distorted, as if he would be talking from very far away. A sharp pain erupted from his chest and Beltira gasped in pain and braced his side. "If you don't want me to kick you in the balls you better stand up!"

Before he could even process the meaning of those words, another sharp pain erupted from his stomach.

"God, stop!" he gasped and fought to open his eyes. His vision was blurry and he could hardly distinguish the distorted face of Beldin staring down at him. His forehead was bleeding, but the grotesque sorcerer seemed hardly affected by the bleeding cut on his head. He himself, however, was all too conscious of the several aches and stings affecting his body.

"Take care of him"· Beldin barked again and disappeared from his camp of sight. He felt the release of his will and then he heard the shriek of a hawk. With great effort Beltira managed to sit. His eyes hurt him greatly and every time he breathed, the air rasped his lungs.

He suddenly noted the fire all around him, the smoke covering everything, poisoning the air. He stood, trying to ignore the pain. His brother was somewhere around him, but he couldn't place him…his mind was too stunned

"Belkira!"

"Here I am, brother" the weak answered come from right in front of him.

He fought to focus and within the smoke he could distinguished the white figure of Belkira. He dragged towards him, hissing at the pain of his wounds and finally reached him. His brother was sitting on the grass, bracing one of his arms. Errand was next to him, his little face serious, even grave. He seemed dirty, but uninjured.

Belkira raised his face. His eyes were filled with tears. Beltira turned slowly and saw what had been his home for 6000 years…completely reduced to dust.


	28. Reality

Durnik stared at what had been his home for most part of his life. He remembered the day he had arrived. It was one of the many farms he had come to All the rest on the district already had a smith on the crew. He was very tired but so full of hopes and expectations. Sadly, his first experienced had been a deception as well. Faldor's farm had a smith on town as well. But before when he had been unceremoniously dismissed, the good hearted owner of the farm absolutely refused to let him go.

"You are but a lad" Faldor had said "and still you have the hands of a man who had worked hard for many many years. I see a lot of experience on those hands. I won't loose the perfect opportunity to have such a person in my farm"

And he hadn't. At first, Durnik was put to work as an assistant of the original blacksmith He was a very old fellow, huge like only someone with cherek blood on him could be but in contrast, he was also very wise. Instead of seeing him as competition and a possible replacement, the old men had always threatened him with some sort of fraternal kindness.

"You did well to come here, boy" he used to say "I was very impulsive when I was your age. My father was a Cherek, a warrior, you see and he wanted me to be on the field of war too. I absolutely refused to hit my neighbourhoods, so he set me up with the local smith as his student. I was absolutely enthralled with the idea." he used to sigh bitterly at that point "So I went to do war. I worked at Cherek and then at Arendia. All I did ended up on the guts of someone" He would moved his head from right to left, his face always grim "No, lad. I couldn't bare the implicit responsibility of that job. In that time, I regarded farms and farmers with nothing more but contentment. But it was either that or starve. Making horse shoes and fixing pans seemed...girlish at first" His laugh was hoarse and sounded like a thunder "But I got used to it. And I loved it. Here, all I do is put to good use, to produce! Believe me when I tell you this, lad. Don't you _ever_ leave Sendaria."

Durnik sighed at the memory. He should have followed the old man's advice. He had left Sendaria for a single year...and now he wasn't even human anymore.

His smithy could be seen from the hill he was standing on and there was smoke emerging from it. Old good Faldor had found a replacement. For the scent of just coked bread floating faintly in the air, it seemed that there was a new cook as well.

He had been witness of the most horrible acts humans were capable of. He had seen war and blood, had died fighting a battle he didn't even understand and had been brought back to life by the gods...and this people were still living the same life he had. The life he thought to be gone was still there. He just wasn't part of it anymore. He turned with tears burning on his eyes.

At the sigh of his companion, a soft smile appeared on his face. Polgara was standing at a respectful distance, waiting patiently until he was ready to leave. She had insisted on coming here for days, had walked with him all the way, pushing him to move on...just so he could farewell all his reality . So he could be ready to face this new life. A new wave of love caressed his pained heart and he walked to her, embracing her slender form with his strong arms.

"Thank you" he whispered softly.

"Any regrets?" she asked softly, almost fearfully.

"No" he answered firmly, without hesitating a single moment.

Polgara smiled sadly as the two of them broke the embrace and watched quietly as the early rising workers started moving on the fields below

Durnik suddenly noted that Polgara was shaking. He looked at her worriedly but the sorceress simply smiled.

"It's cold"

"Let's go back" the former smith said and glanced one last time at the farm as they both walked slowly towards the trees.

Their encampment was set very near the farm in a clearing surrounded by trees and with a river crossing it. Polgara, as she always seemed to do when she was a bit emotional, started cleaning and ordering everything. It wasn't much, only a few covers she had bought a few days back from the village of Gralt and some pans and casseroles.

Durnik however was studying the river intently. He smiled when something moved under its surface and started searching for something on the ground. With his claws he examined a long fallen branch, cut some parts of it on the superior extreme until it was slender enough to be used. Then he walked towards the provisions they had bought and removed a long streamer from one of the sacks. Polgara stopped and turned to look at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Hum...well... we have been eating just pork and rabbit in the last months. I was thinking a change would be nice" he glanced several times at the river, as he tied the streamer on the superior extreme of the stick and then put it over the fire for a few moments. "You do like trout, don't you?"

"I do like trout" Polgara nodded and then walked to the sacks to remove some carrots and potatoes. "On stew, I think" she murmured, roaming through the sacks.

Durnik smiled and moved towards the river. He sat and threw the bait to the middle of the foaming river.

Polgara covered her eyes with one hand as she studied the sky. The sun was right on top of them. She sighed and lowered her head to stare at the cold stew. She stood and walked towards the efrit sitting next to the river's shore.

"There is a faster way to do this, you know?" she informed him.

Durnik jumped startled and glanced at her and at the river a couple of times.

"What? This is how it's normally done, Pol"

"Look at your hands, Durnik and look at the fishes. You could just dig your hand on the water and take them out with those claws"

Durnik' serious face looked disapproving.

"But...It has always been done like this."

Polgara frowned, sighed and then patted him on the back. She walked back to the sacks, took out some jam, cheese and bread and walked towards Durnik again. The sorceress sat next to him and handed over a piece of bread with some cheese and jam on it.

Durnik smiled, took it and then returned his attention to the river as Polgara prepared another one for herself.

"You know, dear one" Polgara said that night as they ate the trout stew "I have really enjoyed our retirement. I think it was good for the two of us. But...I think its time to move back to civilization"

Durnik just stared at her, first shocked, then pleadingly.

"We can't live out here on the woods forever, Durnik"

"Why...why not? We have food, water, shelter...well, we don't have a shelter, but it doesn't matter" He stood and started staring around "I can construct a hut here somewhere"

"I really have to go back" Polgara sighed, her eyes regretful "I wasn't very nice with my uncles. I really own them an apology...and an explanation"

"It's...its reasonable" Durnik agreed "But what about later? How much time would that take...Pol I… really can't let anybody see me like this!"

"Oh, Durnik, you know how me and my family are" Polgara answered in a tired voice "They wont care how you look like." Durnik opened his mouth to protest again, but Polgara covered his mouth softly with one hand "My mother's cottage is still standing. We will fix it together and we will make it our home. It is pretty isolated there"

The efrit hesitated but then a shy little smile appeared on his lips. Polgara smiled mischievously and Durnik blushed.

"Just a few algar riders and cows...lots of cows."

"I think I won't mind the cows"

Polgara kissed him tenderly and Durnik blushed as he always did. But as she continued, slowly, hesitantly, the efrit finally answered to her attentions. His arms work their way up her shoulders as he embraced her tenderly and caressed her face and hair. He wanted her, wanted her to be his forever. He wanted her now. A low growl emerged from his throat as the same need that had forced him to plunge in frenzy on the open sea some months back tortured his body again.

Polgara's eyes widen and she broke the kiss to stare at him. It took a while until Durnik realized in what level of arouse he was, a furious blushed covered his face and he tried to break away from her. But she stopped him, her eyes sensuous, her lips partly open.

"Now, now..." she whispered hungrily.

"Pol..." Durnik stammered "We...aren't married. There are things that must be done...before this"

A flicker of irritation crossed the sorceress face.

"Love doesn't need the authorization of anyone, dear heart. The gods already gave us their blessings. That's what marriage is for all religions. Invoke the blessing of the gods"

Durnik was still blushing,

"We need a priest..."

"Priests are mediums, Durnik. You are too and so am I. We don't need a priest." He tried to break away again, but she didn't let go "Hush, dear, if you don't feel ready for this, its okay." She assured him, caressing his cheek tenderly. All sensuality, that mindless hunger shining on her eyes, disappeared and were shining with that same tender and understanding quality she always had on them ."I'm just saying that you shouldn't fight it, that's all."

She then let go and sat back down. Durnik was still shaking and he turned to walk angrily towards the river.

"I...I can't go on with this" he murmured and Polgara looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I...I'm an animal"

She sighed and raised her eyes to the sky.

"Not again, Durnik. Haven't we passed that stage already?"

"You did hear that noise, Pol! I...I almost lost control...like in the ocean...when I summoned that storm"

"Durnik, you were experiencing something new. It's not bad to loose control sometimes. Its what makes us humans, you know"

"I'm not human. Not anymore"

Polgara frowned.

"Why not?"

"Look at me!"

"Okay, so what? You did saw Uncle Beldin, haven't you?"

"He is clearly a human being, Pol...He is just a bit deformed"

"Oh, that's what you say. For some he was considered an animal, you know."

"To be considered and being are two different things" He countered bitterly.

"Exactly"

The former smith turned to look at her. Polgara was staring intently into his eyes, the white lock of her hair glowing like the moon above.

"You never liked to be around nobility. I have noticed how you get nervous around them and how you feel so out of place. And still look at us now. I am part of that nobility, Durnik."

The efrit turned away again, unable to hold that intense gaze.

"But you didn't know that when you first saw me. I was a homeless woman with an orphan on my arms and looking for a job. And I have always been that person for you, it didn't matter what I did and what I said, you still treating me as you treated me that first time." When Durnik turned to look at her again, there wasn't that angry fire on her eyes anymore. She was looking at him with naked love...and a strange longing "Every one else was looking at Polgara the Sorceress "There was a hint of sadness on her voice and Durnik unconsciously walked towards her. "I'm regarded the same way the orb is. But you...you have never changed your opinion of me."

"Never" The smith assured her firmly.

Polgara smiled, but her eyes were still sad, melancholic.

"Everyone have their own vision of the world around them and of all the people around them. For them it's an absolute truth and what they can call reality. For Faldor, I'm a cook. He would never believe the things that I'm capable of. For the Kings of Aloria and Arendia and the entire world, I'm some kind of force of nature. I doubt that they ever think of the fact that I'm just as fragile as they are. That I can bleed and starve and break like any of them. My face and my body are the same for each of you, but each of you is seeing something different. For some I'm a commoner, for others some sort of semi-goddess...for others a queen. Just a few little are able to see the real me"

She looked at him with eyes filled of love and Durnik was finally able to realize why she had always seemed so vulnerable to his eyes. It hadn't been a physical sort of vulnerability. He had to admit that the kings of Aloria had a reason to fear her; her presence was reassuring could even be intimidating. But there was something else. Her eyes were like open books. There was fire on them, the reflex of an unbreakable will. But bellow that fire, there was also yearning. Yearning of understanding, of being regarded as an equal, being protected and loved as an equal.

Durnik embraced her impulsively, feeling the terrible need to respond to that silent plead.

"I know it's and will always be hard for you, dearest one" Polgara said softly, returning the hug. But you see how we all suffer miscomprehension in one way or the other" she pushed him softly back to look at his eyes "Just as a few are able to see who I am and what I am, you will find those who will recognized the beautiful soul that is the real you No matter what body contains it, you still are who you are."

The efrit's eyes filled with tears. He kissed her again then. This time it wasn't a contained kiss, but a rough, passionate one. When the former smith realized what he was doing, he let go of her and stared wide eyed at her face, afraid of how his impulsive show of affection would be received.

At first, it was with surprised but then the sorceress smiled gently and returned the kiss more tenderly this time. Durnik embraced her again and covered her form with his dark wings.


	29. Pastgone

A hideous noise broke the silence of the night. Polgara opened her eyes. Gasping, filled with a mindless terror, she stayed completely still on the bed of leaves where she laid. A dark silhouette was right next to her and at the light of the moonlight she distinguished the form of Durnik. The efrit was crouched on the grass, his wings flat on his back that sizzling tail completely still for the very first time. Now, the only noise she could hear was her own breathing and the pounding of her startled heart.

Suddenly a burst of light came from the west, illuminating the trees with its golden, red light and bringing terrified screams. Both Polgara and Durnik jumped to their feet.

The sorceress gather her will without even thinking and in a flash, she teleported to the hill where she and Durnik had contemplated the farm of Faldor so happily that same morning. Soon, she was immersed in hell.

Everything happened so fast that her mind acted merely by instinct. The air had been cold, now it was burning. The cold light of the moon had been replaced by the blinding light of fire. If there was fire, water was needed. She appeared with her arms outstretched to the skies in preparation to summon the nearest storm clouds she could find but then, she froze. Her racing mind stumbled and quieten. The entire world around her ceased to exist as only one thing covered it all. It was a beast of such momentum that at first it seemed as if the flames themselves were feeding of the sky.

"Pol!" Durnik was next to her in a flash. The efrit stared at her for a moment and then turned to where she was staring wide eyed "By the seven gods"

The beast shrieked again and vomited fire on top of the ruins of the farm, dragging them both out of their stunned contemplation.

"Shit!" Polgara cursed and made an attempt to go to the aid of the screaming people below, but Durnik stopped her.

The efrit pushed her towards the trees. Polgara didn't resist at first. No one had ever done that to her and the new experience of being dragged away from danger stunned her a for moment, but then she nailed her feet on the ground and freed her arm from his grasp.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded "We must help them!"

"I will fight it off" He assured her, trying to grab her hand again. "You must go to safety!"

"Don't be such an idiot!" Polgara snapped, slapping his talons away. "We are wasting precious time!"

And so she turned again, and again Durnik stopped her. They struggled for a moment.

"Durnik!"

"I won't allow you to put yourself in so much danger, mistress Pol!"

"_Allow me?!_ You don't have the power to allow _me_ anything!"

"I'm stronger than you are. I...I can...Don't...don't... make me hurt you!"

"If you don't let go off me _right now_ I'm going to...!"

The dragon attacked again and the terrified screaming increased. Both of them froze and let go off each other. When they reached the hill top, though, Durnik grasped Polgara's arm.

" Extinguish the fire!" he commanded and then jumped to the air, flapping his wings "I will go for the eyes!"

Polgara was about to protest but finally greeted her teeth and raised her arms in preparation, gathering her will.

He was very fast. He knew that if he could get to its eyes, the rest would be easy. He was near. The beast was so concentrated at attacking and killing everything that moved below that it didn't even see him coming. He raised his talon, closed his wings to plunge towards its eyes and cut across them like a knife, when the dragon raised its huge head and fixed the flame of its eyes on him. In a second, all the air around him was on fire.

The efrit closed his wings and let himself fall. A loud scream of pain escaped his fanged mouth as the fire reached his legs and tail. Durnik opened his wings again and flew away from the falling flames. A thunderous growl was heard and the dragon attacked again.

He moved as fast as he could, flying down and rising again, shocked at the searing pain the fire caused him. He was immortal, he could suffer no pain, and he had not felt pain since he had been sent back. He started panicking as the dragon kept vomiting fire on top of him. The pain was unbearable, his vision started blurring.

Before even realizing, he was flying inches away from the earth, escaping along bleeding and terrified people. A terrible rage grasped his heart and started clouding his mind every time new waves of laments were heard from the people he passed by. He suddenly extended his right wing and made a sharp turn. A flash of solid red scales emerged from the choking smoke and howling, the efrit lashed out at it.

He was rewarded by an agonized scream and a wave of warm blood as three deep cuts were open on the beast's chest. But he couldn't finish congratulating himself before something hit him hard on his side.

Durnik stumbled from the air and fell hard on the burning ashes of the fields. The impact of his body against the hard floor wasn't processed, and the rasping of his flesh against it as he slided to a stop didn't cause any pain either. But he did screamed when flames come from almost everywhere to grasp him and feed of his flesh, like evil insects digging on him.

He tried to stand, his wings spread as he fought to escape. He stopped all movement, the pain suddenly forgotten as the thunderous sound of the monstrous bird's steps resounded everywhere. He raised his head and fixed his eyes on the dragon's. They shone with hatred and a terrible hunger. It raised one huge leg to crush him.

Suddenly, something flashed in front of the dragons muzzle and it screamed in pain, raising its talon even more to cover its left eye. Its wings spread as it retreated.

Durnik's breath caught on his throat at the sight of the snowy owl gliding away and preparing itself to attack again from behind. It screamed and the efrit turned and took flight again.

Torak was loosing his mind to his overwhelming rage. Not a single coherent thought could be processed. His mind had collapsed at the humiliating knowledge of having being defeated by a mere mortal. And now, his body was hurting again. His eye, his left eyes was in pain again.

Howling in rage, he turned around in all directions, looking for his attacker. He heard a shriek behind him and could catch the white glimpse of the snowy owl.

"My bride" he murmured suddenly, a hissing noise emerging from his beak.

Again, the owl attacked, slashing his beak with amazing speed. This time, though, she missed. Before, her talons had crossed his eye, cutting cleanly trough it. But this time, Torak was able to evade her and saved his other eye. Polgara managed to cut his muzzle, though. But it was merely a small sting for the huge beast. Torak moaned in pain, but the pain he felt was on his heart.

"Mine bride!" he howled clearly this time.

The snowy owls floundered and shriek.

A blinding pain suddenly erupted from Torak's back and the dragon howled in despair as it kept increasing. He rosed in all his height and his wings flapped errantly. His tail whipped around, smashing the ruins of the farm below.

Durnik hold into its back with his claws, stabbing the dragon with one talon or the other, making his way deep into its back. Blood started washing him all over and it's smell only increased his rage. Soon, he was roaring and howling like a wild beast, biting the dragon, clawing it, trying with all his might to perforate its armour and reach its heart.

The snowy owl contemplated the fight for a moment and then rosed higher to the skies. The storm clouds kept coming slowly at her command and soon, lightings and thunders broke above.

Everything happened in slow motion. Polgara would always remember it with terrifying clarity and with painful lucidity. The howls of the dragon merged with the thunders roaring on the skies, its huge momentum twisting and convulsing on its torment, the flames below dancing like demons, the clouds moving slowly above and the dragon finally stopping, letting it self collapse on top of the lake of fire that was now Faldor's farm.

And Durnik going down with it.

The white bird stayed there for quite some time, frozen, flapping mechanically. The clouds slowly separated and departed, suddenly free of the commanding force gathering them. They return to where they had come from. The flames kept dancing as if celebrating their departure.

The dragon slowly roll on its side and stood, leaving a smoking crater where it had fell, unhurt by the flames among which it was standing. A huge, bleeding wound interrupted the perfection of its back's scales.

Polgara's heart was hammering and she kept flapping slowly on the sky, waiting for Durnik to appear. But he never did.

The dragon turned and lifted its head to her. Its eyes burned into her blue ones as it hissed.

"Mine bride"

* * *

If you read it, remember to leave a nice review ) Its always nice to know someone is reading one's work.


	30. Dust

The words kept resounding, but their meaning was completely lost as the possibility of something to painful to even acknowledge it started being processed by Polgara's stunned conscious. The dragon passed to the background as her sharp eyes fixed on the disfigured remains down below, right at the center of the smocking crater left by the dragon's huge momentum.

The snowy owl flapping slowly on the sky disappeared and a women all in blue appeared down below the ground. She didn't heard the frustrated moan of the dragon as it turned its snaked head towards her. She didn't felt the heath of the fire burning all around her, like ghostly tress surrounding a dead clearing. Only her eyes function. And the only thing they could give her was a nightmare. All her life, all her new hopes were once again absolutely lost. All of her had become a half burned, broken carcass with broken wings,..

She didn't even moaned as her knees gave way below her and she fell. Her trembling hands got in contact with the black bones, the dying flesh of a three clawed talon. She burn herself, for it was still hot, but the pain was never processed. It was too insignificant compared with the agony of her soul. Something within her broke and only one single tear fell from her eyes. She raised her face and stared vacantly at the huge beast towering over her. Her mind, stunned by the cold feeling of hopeless despair was shaken awake suddenly by the choking fire of her rage.

Torak studied the women at his feet. She had rejected him, despised him over and over again every time he opened his heart to her, every time he tried to drag her to the right side. No one has ever humiliate him like she had and still, he felt completely naked around her. The love he felt for her was just too great.

"Mine bride" He hissed, lowering his neck and extending one huge talon. "Thou keep coming to me. It is thy fate to..."

"Murderer!!"

The dragon god couldn't even finish his sentence before a blinding ball of pure energy come sizzling from his bride's hand. It exploded right into his face, inches away from his lone eye. Torak howl in pain and backed away, belching fire erratically over the sky. Another painful blast hit him on the beak, , burning his skin.

Frothing, enraged behind sanity, Torak turn towards her, vomiting a huge wave of fire into her one time after the other. He extended his huge wings, his blood boiling by the frustration and his anger.

"Then die!! Die thee and thy father and thy king and thy race and thy god!" He howled in a barely modulated voice as he gain altitude and flew toward the Island f the Wind at terrifying speed.

Beldin made great efforts not to scream as the dragon's deafening shrikes could be heard from the farm. One of his snarled legs had been caught by the flames when he swooped down there and the sting of the fresh wounds was almost unbearable. The dragon's screams lost themselves in the distance till everything got absolutely quiet. The only noise there was left was the sound of the fire eating away everything, the cracking noise of death and destruction.

"Get off me!"

His companion snarled, trying futilely to free her self from his weight.

"I would love to" Beldin growled between clenched teeth. "But I cant really move..." He closed his eyes and coughed "I'm too old for this shit"

Polgara proceeded to give him the help he needed to get his body off of hers by the simple procedure of pushing him roughly aside.

"Argh!" Belding protested loudly "Don't be so grateful!"

Polgara ignored him and scanned the sky with two very penetrating eyes.

"What the fuck was that thing" she asked in strangely dead tone.

"A dragon. One would guess that you would know what a dragon look like." Beldin growled, offended by her rough treatment of him, "What the hell were you doing there?! The twins told me they have been looking for you for two months!"

The sorceress didn't answer. Her form shimmered and blurred and a fast falcon emerged from the light like an arrow, speeding up the sky.

"Hey! Where are you going!"

The falcon shrieked and Beldin's eyes widen in terror and he fought to stand, but a terrible pain erupted from his legs and he fell screaming to the dirt. Breathing heavily, he realized that that last translocation had completely drawn him. He had pushed himself to hard.

"Polgara!" He bellowed in frustration" Don't you fucking dare to do something stupid!!"

The flacon shriek again in the distance. Its message left clear what her intentions were.

Revenge.


	31. Riva

The harbor was in chaos. So far the total evacuation of the island had proceeded fairly organized and calm. The youngest part of the population embarked the ships that were going to take them to Cherek, the safest port at hand, with faces full of curiosity and even excitement. But then, huge columns of smoke could be seen rising from the sea like evil snakes. Even at the distance they were of the nearest coast, the smell of burned vegetation and burned meat reached the island.

No more laughter or jokes could be heard and all Riva fell into a deep silence, only broken by the boisterous Cherek sailors, as they took their ships out and in of the port. Panic, however, had never come. The grim-faced rivans, moved in silent procession towards the waiting ships.

First the children and the women, then the oldest men and finally, the soldiers. Some had to be forced to depart, but Garion had preferred it that way. The beast was unstoppable. Sailors brought alarming stories of its passing through the now partially destroyed kingdoms of Arendia, Sendaria and Algaria. Nothing could stop it, and he was sure the only thing powerful enough to do so, was the glowing blue stone on the pommel of his sword.

Only a few catapult engineers were allowed to stay and Garion had perimited it only at the insistence of Belgarath. The old men knew the beast and he insisted on the importance of doing something to keep it from being able to fly during the battle to come. Ten catapults rested along the beach on the harbor and other fifteen were placed facing out of the walls of the citadel and facing in. If they were lucky enough, they would be able to make it flee or kill it without risking anyone.

Garion was now passing back and forth nervously on the throne room, wondering if Ce´Nedra had arrived safely at Cherek. She had been one of the first ones to leave. She hadn't care much for the idea, but luckily she had obeyed him, this time. Teary eyed, the Queen of the World had embarked Greldik's ship with all the most honorable and loyal soldiers Garion had. Those same ones who had absolutely refused to leave. Belgarath had made Garion honored the 400 hundred or so men with the title of the Official Escort of the Queen. If she had to go, they were forced to leave with her.

Brand wasn't a catapult engineer but the little trick Garion used with the other soldiers couldn't be applied to the Rivan Warder. Belgarath had long ago given him the title of serving the island and the orb. And the sorcerer's command was stronger than that of the Rivan King himself. When confronted by this, the young king turned to his grandfather, but the old men shrugged.

"Let him stay. You do need a general, after all"

Although Garion protested for his friend's safety his presence there was very comforting.

"The catapults are in place" the Rivan Warder informed him calmly, entering the throne room"We should be mostly thankful to you brothers, holy Belgarath" The sorcerer turned from the window with a raised eye brow. A gesture mostly seen on his daughter "Without their warning, we wouldn't have counted with all this precious time. That monster would have caught us as unprepared as the others were."

Belgarath sighed

"Sadly, that warning didn't reached Fulrach, Cho-Hag nor Korodullin." He stayed quite for a moment, watching how the last boats departed and the few people there was left prepared to embark. "I think you and your people also deserve those thanks. You managed to do in a few days what could have taken weeks" he then turned to the passing Garion "Whatever you are trying to do, it doesn't seem to be working"

"I'm sorry" Garion mumbled absently, not even slowing down.

Belgarath sighed bluntly and then turn to the window again.

The fire come first, like the lightening before the thunder. The dark clouds suddenly become alive as a volt of fire fell into the terrifying people aboard the retiring ships.

Belgarath cursed and covered his eyes, blinded for a moment by the burst of light that exploded at the harbor.

A shout was heard and the lined catapults at the beach shot simultaneously , sending a rain of rocks against the huge beast that landed heavily in the middle of the burning hell that was the port now. It raised its head and in one fluid, almost elegant, movement, it hit away a few rocks. It snarled horribly and moved with thunderous steps towards the citadel, its tail waving in the wind.

"Now!"

A new order was shouted and more projectiles were thrown towards the dragon. It growled again but this time it opened his red beak and vomit fire against the stones hurled at it, burning down everything on its path. The rocks fell from the sky like comets, some impacting against the beast, but having no more effect on it than a mosquito would have had.

"Thy doth never learn" it said with a hollow voice "None of thee doth learn"

"Recharge!"

Torak growled furiously, took in all the air his lungs could take and stretched his neck forward, shrieking and sending new torrents of fire against the city. The front line of the catapults was engulfed, incinerating the work men as well with such power and speed, that it didn't even gave them time to scream.

"Close the gates!" the general in charge of the second line of catapults, the one inside the fortress itself, shouted to his men, horrified at the sight of the melting bodies of his comrade in arms. "Close the gates!"

The gates moved effortlessly as the men pushed them close, but the sound they made as they closed was ominous.

Torak snorted disdainfully, a cloud of smoke emerging from his red beak. He open his wings, tensed his legs and crouched. Jumping like a cat, he took flight and flown over the walls, the gates and the panicking men behind them.

"Now!"

A huge stone come flying from the left side as Torak landed on top of the houses, crashing them as if they were made of wood and paper. It smashed into his cut eye with a splashing sound. The howl of pain that emerged from his beak was earth-shaking. More stones impacted on him but seemed not to even bother the dragon.

Garion let out a wailed of despair as the beast's tails wiped at the wooden frames of the catapults, and all the men around them. He was about to jump out in a desperate attempt to save them but Belgarath stopped him

"No!" the old men commanded before a blast of burning air burst through the window, sending the three men coughing to the floor. "Fuck!" Belgarath cursed "That thing is five sizes bigger than the dragon I know!"

"We got to move!" Brand shouted, panicking when the only thing he could see through the window was a lake of fire and the burning figure of the dragon's neck.

"To the terrace!" Belgarath said, jumping to his feet.

"The house will fall down on us!" Garion shouted on a shrill voice as the three of them run towards the stairs. The song of the orb was deafening and its normally soothing harmonic melody was now strongly aggressive, even chaotic.

"Its not a house, Garion" Belgarath corrected crossly "It's a castle and its has been craved out of the island itself. It wont melt down on us"

The floor and the walls trembled and they almost fell

"Is it wise to put ourselves above where we cant move freely?" Brand asked

"We cant move freely among the flames either or if we are too busy trying to keep it from stepping on us!"

The fortress trembled again and sounds of fallings stones were heard in the distance, along the sound of the fire, burning everything outside.

"Come, Child of Light!" a hollow hideous voice defied from over the noise. Garion's heart grown absolutely cold when he recognized it. He turn quickly to Belgarath, but the old men was as shocked and horrified as he was "come and meet thy doom!"

As terror begin filling the young king's heart, the song of the orb intensified and its sound brought courage and strength to Garion. Panting and trembling like a cornered animal, the rivan king jumped back to his feet and run upstairs, his blood boiling, his ears ringing.

When he reached the terrace, he kicked the door open and removed his sword from its sheath- The orb exploded in a red light that almost matched the color of the scaled skin of the monster that towered over the tower where Garion stood.

The beast's right eye flashed with hatred as its beak opened in a hideous snarl. Suddenly it brought down its huge talon down, trying to crush the rivan. Garion raised the sword and let out a war cry that equal in fierceness that of the dragon.

Neither of them was able to touch the other, however. The dragon's talon stroke the air and bounced against it as if impacting into something solid. It growled in frustration and tried again and again but each time encountering something more solid than the stones themselves. Garion also discovered with alarm that the orb's glow didn't hurt the creature.

The bouncing sounds of its clawing at the air were finally processed by him and he turn to the door, where Belgarath stood firmly, with his arms raised above his head, his old face stern in concentration. Brand was in a flash next to him, his sword in hand.

The dragon howled infuriated and brought its talons down again. This time not aiming at them, but at the base of the tower were they stood.

Garion heard a thunderous noise as Belgarath let go off the shield and put his hands forward.

The dragon's claws bounced again but its head thrust towards them. Garion swung his sword. The fire of the orb make no harm to it.

"It doesn't make it anything!" He shouted desperately at his grandfather as he jumped out of the way of the dragon's charge.

"Fire doesn't!" Belgarath said "Nothing that burns can"

"And you are telling me _now_ about it?!"

"I thought you knew! You were supposed to be studing, boy!"

The dragon opened its beak. Garion, cornered between the stone wall and the beast, raised his sword. If the orb couldn't hurt it, then the blade would. He could run towards it and jump aside before it stroke. He needed to get to its throat. His sendarian upbringing pointed out the fact that it was way to risky but his alorn blood was already boiling with excitement.

But then, the beast howled and its head shot backwards. Garion saw with horror Brand's legs kicking the air as the dragon lifted him along with his sword, which now was embedded to the pommel below one of the twisted horns near the neck of the dragon.

Garion attacked then and swung the sword, aiming at its neck, but it evaded the stroke as it lifted its head, extending its neck to its full height.

He watched horrified as Brand was caught by the dragon's jaws and his screams of agony were like a knife on his heart. Maddened with terror the rivan king run towards the dragon's crisped talon and brought the sword down on it, not even thinking of what consequences the beast's fall could cause. It didn't fell, though. Garion's sword slidded deeply through its flesh, nailing the talon firmly on the stone.

The dragon shriek in pain and Brand fell limply and quietly from between its teeth. Garion run towards him to try and catch him, when the rivan warder simply banished in mid-air. Between the howls of pain of the beast and the sound of the fire eating everything below, he almost lost the sound of Belgarath's will being released. He turned and saw his grandfather kneeling down a pale and bleeding Brand.

A terrible pain erupted from his ribs and the air abandoned his lungs. He didn't realize he was falling until he hit the ground. For a movement everything got quite and absolutely dark.

Voices and noise come to him and he felt something warm and sticky falling from his side. He re-opened his eyes, his ears ringing. He raised his head and noticed with certain alarm that he was wounded and a small pool of blood was forming below him. He started panting and fought to sit. His grandfather stood in front of him, sorrounded by a strange glowing aura. The air around them was somehow clouded and strangely waving, as if they would be submerged into water.

The howls of the dragon come to him smother, along with the pounding blows resounding each time it tried to cut through Belgarath's barrier. Every time one of its claws got in contact with the solid energy, fresh streaks of blood fell along its circumference.

Brand was laying next to him, mortally pale, his legs a mass of distorted flesh. Dazed, Garion look around for his sword and he barely saw it, glowing too far from him, nailed on a dismembered red claw.

Belgarath groaned and fell on one of his knees as the beast's attacks grew more frantic.

"Grandfather" Garion moaned, covering the wounds on his chest with one arm as he tried to sit

"It takes…a lot of energy to do this" the sorcerer panted "And that accursed thing is immune to sorcery"

Garion moaned and glanced again at his sword. It was their only chance. Again, his sendarian practical mind noted that it would be useless to even try, but the perspective of dying on his feet and fighting was more appealing than staying there.

Another ear-piercing shriek was heard. Garion covered his ears with bloody and crisped hands. That shriek was followed by another, but this one was different. It wasn't filled with raged, but with pain. A thunderous noise seemed to shake the island itself as the shrieking continued. Garion's eyes snapped open.

There were two different howls now.


	32. Fighting birds

Claws flashing, teeth bared, tails whistling on the air, both dragons roll over the burning city of Riva.

Torak's head was still ringing for the terrible blow of the black dragon's plunging down on him. Its teeth, big as a human's arm and sharper than any blade, cut through Torak's front arm. The bite had been aimed at the god's neck, but again he had managed to evade death.

He slashed down at the other dragon trying desperately to take some distance from it. His talons made three red marks on the dark scales, but they didn't cut deep enough. It kept attacking and seemed not to even care or notice the wounds been inflected upon its body, nor the possible drawbacks of every blow it threw. Instead of pushing it away, those attacks seemed only to increase its fearsome rage.

The fire, having devoured everything that could be burnt, started to extinguished and was turned completely down when the two creatures dragged and crawl over them in their dreadful fight. Even the walls of the fortress succumbed and were smashed under their bodies

Belgarath stared in awe at the two contending animals. The red one was bigger, but it was badly wounded and the smaller dragon seemed to compensate the lack of muscle with the violence of its attacks.

Thousands of questions erupted on the old sorcerer's mind as he contemplated the destruction of the rivan fortress with a vacant stare. The new dragon was as black as a raven's wing and above its glowing grey eyes, at the left side of its bird-like head, there was an intensely bright white streak. His eyes widen as a terrifying suspicion fixed itself on his mind. He put his hand on his amulet and all the blood suddenly abandoned his face.

Torak opened his beak and vomit fire against his enemy. For a moment, the black dragon was engulfed by the fire but then like the smoke emerging from same flames, it reemerged, its beak open, ready to bit. The red dragon howled in agony as his opponent's teeth perforated his right shoulder. The pain was starting to overwhelm him and there was a new sensation that he had never felt before. His body was starting to fail him and breathing was difficult. He was weakening.

He kept spitting fire over it, even though it was evident that it caused it no harm. A flicker of rationality finally made its way through the cloud of madness smothering his mind and he kicked out with one of his legs. It found something solid and a gurgling hiss emerged from the black dragon's beak. Torak kicked again and again and finally it couldn't hold it anymore and screeching in pain, it retreated. Torak did as well and both gazed into each other for a long time, growling and hissing with hatred.

"What do you mean its Aunt Pol?!" Garion screamed "It will kill her!"

Belgarath didn't say anything and kept walking down the stairs, supporting the badly injured Garion. His face was absolutely pale and his eyes seemed clouded by a deep consternation.

"I will be fine, grandfather" Garion gasped attempting to free himself from the old men's grasp; an attempt that had ended with him trembling and with his eyes seeing nothing but a multitude of little white dots. "We must...help her!"

The old men ignored him and kept walking down, concentrating on turning the flames down as he went. They finally reached the hall and Belgarath extinguished the already dying fire there. He put Garion down took off his cape, and covered the trembling rivan with it. He then turn and run upstairs for the wounded Rivan warder.

Polgara howled in pain as Torak bit her hard on one arm in a desperate try to release his leg from between her jaws. She was about to bit him again, but then Torak's tail swirled forth and whipped her cleanly across the neck, cutting off her breath for a momement. Another blow sent her backwards and her wounded legs gave way below her, unable to support all her weight. Whimpering she put down her wounded arm and stood up again, roaring and sending a torrent of fire against Torak.

The flames engulfed the God of Angarak, but its huge wings expanded and flapped vigorously. The red of his blood confusing itself with the color of his scales, Torak emerged from the flames, moaning pathetically and turning away towards the sea.

Polgara snarled and jumped forward, opening her wings and reaching out for him with surprising speed. She caught hold of his legs and hooked her talons painfully on his flesh, crawling on him, going towards his neck, his back, his wings, and any place that she could rip off and use to hurt him.

Torak turned and slashed her with his tale again. It left a profound cut on her back, and her arm, but she didn't stop. Her eyes were glowing like the white streak on her face. The former god found himself facing something more dreadful than the accursed jewel of his oldest brother. Half blinded and numb all over, the red dragon stretch his neck and took in a deep breath in attempt to once again try to burn his enemy away.

Polgara was no soldier. She had learnt and studied and _mastered_ politics, philosophy, economy, law, medicine, arts of all kinds. But she had never cared to learn how to fight. She never had thought it would ever be necessary. She did knew some maneuvers of self-defense-mostly learnt before going to Gar Or Nadrak- , but all of them were defensive tactics. Any professional soldier knew how to analyze the drawbacks and advantages of any possibility of attacking very quickly and efficiently. Before going for it, they needed to be sure if it was really worth it…or even possible. A professional soldier would have not made the fatal mistake she did.

The bared neck of the dragon god, all helpless and delightfully close, was a temptation way too precious for her to resist it and so it was that snarling fiercely she flown forward, her beak wide open in anticipation, mindless rage clouding every rational thought on her mind. Torak waited patiently till she was close enough and then, he brought his tail down on her, slashing at one of her wings.

The crack of the bones as they broke was audible even above the ear-piercing howl that emerged from the falling dragon's throat. It wasn't as much a cry of pain, as it was one of frustration. She knew in the instant she tried to reopen her wing and couldn't that she had just lost the last thing there was left for her.

Torak, bleeding and moaning turned heavily around and flew away, letting out deep and hollow laments.

Polgara, trembling, stood and walked towards him, shrieking her defiance all the way and seemly trying to reach him. Her legs bended over her weight and her whole body screamed for rest. Torak's form was loosing itself on the distance. She kept crawling till she reached the sea and even there, she kept moving forward. The salty waters washed her bleeding wounds, but the sting was not even noticed. Her howls of defiance slowly became desperate cries of infinite sorrow and loss.

* * *

I dont quite understand the new little tool fanfiction added. That "reader traffic" thingy, but according to it there are many visitors on my story which makes me happy :) Im sort of disapointed cause I dont receive just as much reviews, but oh well, you cant have it all. Thank you for passing by!


	33. Rumbles

Ce'Nedra's heart shivered at the sight of her new home. The grey stones were now absolutely black and every time a breeze blown a fine line of ashes rose from the rocks.

There was a multitude already ashore. Most of the population had already arrived long ago and she wondered just why they were crowding on that desolated windy beach.

Ce'Nedra saw through the destroyed walls surrounding the citadel and immediately understood why. Its sight was ghastly. Some of the stone houses were still standing; the empty openings of the windows and the doors made them appeared in the distance like black screaming faces, seemly horrified by the destruction of the ones that had been smashed down. The palace rose far behind like a half, collapsed mountain.

A heavy hand placed on her trembling shoulder and she turned. Barak, his face surprisingly gentle, was right behind her. She smiled back sadly. The chubby form of her long lost teddy bear flashed into her mind and the little dryad was wise enough not to comment her association with the Dreadful Bear.

Greldick's sailors threw over the ramp. Arell, her new found best friend the niece of the Rivan Warder, placed at her left side. Anheg, the king of Cherek, stood at her right in a mute shown of absolute support towards her but most importantly to show the hopeless people below Cherek's support to Riva.

Twenty soldiers were lined ashore all proud and gleaming on their armors, seemly oblivion to the destruction and desolation around them. Their capes were waving on the wind, golden short lances stood firmly by their side as they stared intently and proudly at the front. There was really nothing to be proud of, Ce'Nedra mused. And there was nothing on there to be protected. She supposed that they were trying to _show_ that there was, though.

Ce'Nedra raised her face to contemplate for a moment the rivans faces. The helpless despair they reflected squeezed at her heart. They needed something to hold into and the strength the soldiers shown was seemly trying to give them that. She took in a deep breath, raised her chin and walked down the dirty ramp towards the ashen-covered beach with the same solemnity and dignity she would have displayed back at the marble corridors of her father's palace on Tol Honeth. She frequently smiled gently at the rivans, trying with her might to transfer to them the security she did not feel. The resounding steps of her escort helped to ease her own fears, though.

There were several men inside the throne room when they arrived, holding court with the King of Riva. The Overlord of the West, however, didn't seem to be in any conditions to be holding court. When Garion turned to the door, Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with tears at the sight of his deadly pale skin and the deep dark circles below his eyes.

She walked hesitantly towards him. Garion smiled wearily at her and the little dryad run then, hugging him fiercely. She let go almost immediately, startled by the hollow shout that escaped his mouth just as soon as her arms closed around him.

"My ribs…" he explained in a strangled gasp "There are…a few broken, I think. Would you stop that?" He then snapped at the three old men hovering over him. Their white robes identified them as physicians.

Ce'Nedra put her tiny arms around him again, more tenderly this time. He hesitated a moment, a bit embarrassed, but when she started sobbing, he return the hug.

"Oh, Garion. I was so worried How is it possible that you can't stay out of trouble for just one instant?"

"I didn't really ask for it, Ce'Nedra"

"Is that about all it did to you?" Anheg asked suspiciously, eyeing the rivan's ashen face.

"It also left some ugly looking scars on my chest. But they say it's nothing to worry about"

"With proper rest it wouldn't" a tall, bearded physician murmured moodily from behind Garion's throne

He glared at him and the man's eyes widen.

"Our Multi-slayer here absolutely insist on taking care of everything himself" Silk, sitting near by in a red tunic with the Drasnian emblem on it, said merrily "Even though he has fallen asleep a few times already while we talked. At first we got into hysterics, thinking he had just died on us. We generally wait for his snoring to begin before continuing with the talking. Just to be on the safe side"

"Maybe you should rest, Garion" Barak agreed "We can take care of things here. The rivans have been waiting for you for a very long time. I don't think they would forgive us if we let you die on us"

"Would you all stop assuming my husband will die, please?" Ce'Nedra asked them coldly.

"Thank you" Garion said to his wife, glaring at his friends.

"Take the king to his bed, please" the little dryad said to the bearded physician while sniffing as delicately as she could "I will take care of things here now"

Anheg chocked a bit and Garion opened his mouth to protest, but Silk waved his arms desperately behind Ce'Nedra's back making exaggerated gestures of warning. Garion closed his mouth slowly; think about it for a moment and then nodded meekly. He was very tired and breathing was painful. They were more capable at those things than he was, anyway. They were part of the nobility after all. He was just a misplaced farmer. A farmer reaped away from his comfortable peaceful existence and forced to fight against an insane god and less than a year later a fire-spitting dragon.

Just when the pain and the weariness were again pushing him back to self-pitying he felt two soft lips planting themselves firmly on his cheek. Ce'Nedra looked at his eyes tenderly and the love he saw on her eyes was overpowering. All his sadness disappeared. He wasn't in agony anymore, just merely exhausted. He returned the smile and allowed the physicians to help him up.

"Okay, gentlemen" he heard Ce'Nedra's voice, seemly strong but still a bit quivering "What do we do now?"

Garion had never thought an object could be source of such delight and desire. As soon as his tired eyes placed themselves on the soft bed of his chamber, all rational thought abandoned his mind as his whole body yearned to let itself fall between the warm blankets. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

It was dark and he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe either but his lungs refused to stop moving; his nostrils were filled with dust and it cut into his chest when they entered inside him. He tried to move, but his arms and legs didn't respond All his body was burning, his chest felt to tight…He was burning, he couldn't moved. He was chocking…

"Garion!"

Garion awoke with a start. He jolted upward and his ribs soon resented the brusque movement. He fell back down on the pillow, groaning in pain. He heard some rustling behind him and Ce'Nedra's face was illuminated by the golden light of a small candle.

"Are you alright?"

Garion just stared at her wide eyed and still gasping still not quite understanding he had just had a nightmare. It had been so rea,l so terribly real.

"You kicked me" The little dryad accused mildly "You were having a nightmare, weren't you?"

Garion covered his face with a trembling hand as he nodded.

"I…"

A thunderous noise exploded on his head and he started so violently that he fell from the bed.

"Garion!"

The young rivan jumped to his feet and stumbled towards the door.

"Garion, where are you going?"

He ignored her and kept running, or stumbling rather, towards the source of the noise. Now that his stunned mind started functioning again he realized there were two different kinds of rumblings, one sharp and chaotic, the other strong and heavy. The two noises seemed to be competing with one another to see which of them could out-sound the other.

When he reached the corridor leading to Aunt Pol's quarters he soon discovered that the struggle that was taking place wasn't only between two wills. The indignant screams of his aunt were a clear indication that something more physical was also taking place.

There were two very pale soldiers guarding the door assuring all the people who approached attracted by the noise that everything was under control. They didn't stop the Rivan King's passage though. They glanced wide-eyed at him and then let him in. What he saw inside astonished him behind measure.

"Grandfather?!"

"Don't you just stand there, boy!!" The old men snapped tartly "Give me a hand here, would you?!"

Garion didn't move, though. He was shocked behind belief and couldn't still quite understand why in the world his grandfather, his enraged aunt and one fat lady whom he didn't knew where all in the floor struggling with one another. Aunt Pol seemed to be the one loosing, as the other two had managed to hold her down and were trying to drag her back to her feet.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, the white lock at her brow incandescently white. She fixed her wild eyes on him "Do something!"

Garion opened his mouth, then closed it and opened it again staring at one and the other.

"Grandfather?!" He wailed again as they forced his aunt back on her feet and pushed her towards the bed

"She almost jumped out the window!" Belgarath gasped as they laid her back down.

"Let go, damn it!" Polgara shouted and stopped her erratic kicking and aimed at Belgarath. The old men jumped aside with surprising agility, saving the precious spot between his legs from a very unpleasant experience.

"Tacky, Pol" He told his daughter disapprovingly "Very tacky"

"Aunt Pol?"

"I must go to sendaria!" she explained, abandoning her struggle for a moment and trying to catch her breath

"Your arm is broken, Polgara" Belgarath informed accusingly. Garion noted that the old men had one of his eyes firmly closed and it was a bit swollen "You would have smashed head first into the rocks"

Polgara frowned in consternation and moved her left arm as if just remembering it was all splintered.

"Oh, dear…"

"She is bleeding" the fat white robed women informed somberly removing her blood stained hand off Polgara's heaving stomach.

"Grandfather!"

"Stop wailing like an idiot, Garion!" Polgara snapped at the still gaping Garion "Go…go the harbor. Probably that Greldick is still there…He can take me to sendaria…"

"Don't be silly" Belgarath growled at her "You can't even move without start leaking somewhere"

"They buried him alive, old men!" She flared "I thought the fire killed him, but he can't die. He isn't alive so he just can't die!" she shuddered and her voice broke "He needs me"

"What? Whom are you talking about?"

"Durnik!"

As soon as his name emerged from her mouth she realized that she had made a mistake. Belgarath's eyes widen and then his face grew wary. She sighed and cursed herself under her breath

"I will have to sew it up again" the voice of the women who had been attending her said mildly from behind

Polgara gasped and started when her father sat her up and for a moment everything around her seemed to dance. She vaguely noticed the now blood stained clothes but she was so numb all over that even didn't feel the blood. She stayed still and closed her eyes. He wasn't going to let her go if she kept yelling. Screeching at the top of her lungs wasn't a very good way of showing someone that she was a rational being, He was a very diplomatic men, she would give him that. She knew she could convince him, as she always did. It was necessary to get a hold on herself and her temper. His grip on her, though, wasn't helping.

"Durnik was brought back by the gods" she started to explain in a controlled voice. "We were meant to be together--we were talking when the dragon came…" she turned to him and realized that she was wasting her breath. She remember bitterly the one time she couldn't convince him. Her eyes filled with helpless tears as he uncomfortably evaded her eyes. His own had grown hunted and vacant as he stared intently at something on the right side. When Polgara turned, she noted that the fat little women was filling a cup with steaming water. A bitter smell rose from the cup. She knew that smell all to well.

"I will explain it to you on our way there!" she tried another tactic "It won't take us long!"

"Drink this, my lady" the women said and quite rudely put the cup right in front of Polgara' nose. The sorceress turned her head away and thought very seriously on turning her into a toad there on the spot.

"Don't be difficult, Pol" her father murmured and her temper flared again.

"Don't you understand what I'm fucking telling you?!"

"We will go when you get better"

"That's for me to decide," She growled back "Let go off me, father. I mean it"

"Pol, you are a physician too. Look at yourself. Be reasonable for once, will you?"

Polgara greeted her teeth. He was right, she felt light headed and awfully weak. Her broken arm ached terribly and she wasn't sure her legs would hold her if she tried to stand. But the horror of the dream she had had…the feeling of chocking time after time was too fresh on her mind.

"I can't leave him there" She sobbed helplessly.

Garion turned away, incapable of standing it any longer. His aunt suddenly heaved a heart-broken moan and there were noises of some struggled. When it all grow quite again he turned back to them. Aunt Pol was fainting slowly on Belgarath's arms as the physician next to the bed put away the now empty cup. His grandfather laid her down gently and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. His eyes were clouded seemly lost in most disturbing memories.

"I will check her wounds now" the women said softly.

At first neither Belgarath nor Garion understood what that implicated. Only when the gentle old women asked them to wait outside, they moved. Belgarath stiffly nodded at her and walked towards the door.

Garion glanced at his aunt, reluctant to leave her alone. But then he caught the passing of something red at the corner of his eyes. Ce'Nedra was walking, trembling and also very pale towards the bed. The little dryad took Polgara's good hand tightly between hers and talked softly to her.

Garion then sighed and left, closing the door behind him. There was a crowd of wide-eyed people outside. Barak and Silk where there. The little Drasnian had two daggers on his hands.

"She…its everything alright" Belgarath said wearily. "Leave"

They stared at him, concerned.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" he snapped violently "I told you to leave!"

They all started, nodded and fled. Even the two guards left hurriedly with the others.

"Why are you still here?" Garion turned to his grandfather but there wasn't the anger the old men had shown towards the others. "You are badly hurt too. Go to bed, boy. Running in under-wears through the corridors of this freezing place can't be good for you"

Garion started and look down at himself. He didn't notice he had been naked all the time. He blushed but glanced hesitantly at the door.

"Go, boy" Belgarath insisted "I will take care of things here"

The Rivan King sighed, nodded and left the corridor quietly.


	34. Inside

Belgarath didn't remember when he had felt just as grumpy as he felt at the moment, sprawled uncomfortably on a wooden chair, absolutely exhausted. Polgara was lying on her side, facing the now barreled window. He wasn't sure if she was still sleeping or not. Her breathing was all shallow asleep or awake and she grew weaker as the days went by. After that first struggled, his daughter had not tried to leave but went into a more drastic and worrisome measure: hunger strike.

At first he had tried to talk her out of it, then Garion did and even Ce'Nedra. All of them were, of course, ignored. And so he had adopted the costume of waiting for her to sleep and then get into her mind and inspire-for he didn't find a better word for it-on her the desire to eat. Polgara would awake, devour everything near by and then, with huge teary eyes and the white lock at her brow glowing incandescently, she would curse him with all her might.

Belgarath was somehow proud of her. She was showing just how strong-willed and brave she was. But he was also disappointed by her childish stubbornness. After the first few times, Polgara told him she would not sleep anymore until he allowed her to leave…and failed miserably. She soon dozed off and Belgarath invaded her mind once again. She awoke and finding she had fallen for the same trick yet again, the rain of curses she delivered on Belgarath was dreadful. The old man, whoever, remained silent and quiet.

"You are a physician, Pol. One would think you would be wiser on those things"

Was all he told her, renewing the curses.

Now, though, he was the one weakening. Polgara was wounded and healing, but he also needed rest and couldn't trust anybody else the job of guarding her. The twins were nurturing Beldin back to health. And the other option, Garion, wasn't a very good one. Belgarath knew how all this was affecting him and couldn't trust to leave those two alone. But as days went by…there didn't seem to be many options left. Polgara would be in better conditions than him and that was also dangerous. Her mind was sharper than his, subtle and quick. If he lowered his guard too much, she would do to him what she did to Beltira.

He stood quietly and glanced over at her. She was asleep, mumbling softly on the pillow, her good arm outstretched, as if reaching to somebody, He sat back down and took a sip of his beer and finally stood back up and moved towards the soldier always guarding the door.

"Be a good fellow and bring me the king, would ya?"

The guard started at the voice, bowed clumsily to Belgarath and moved away. It took Garion little time to appear. He was also recovering from his own wounds and the only big job he was allowed to perform was taking his little wife's bad mood when she came returned every day to their chamber. Ce'Nedra was used to the life of royalty and still spending hours and hours listening to other people's complaining and requests seem to anger her as much as it angered him. He entered the room brusquely, gasping and with eyes wide open.

"What happened?!"

"**Hush!!**" Belgarath quieted him crossly, glancing at the sleeping women.

Garion sighed, seeing everything was alright. He thanked the guard and then closed the door and took a sit.

"How are you?"

"My ribs still hurt a bit, but I'm getting better"

"I heard Brand was buried already."

An expression of pain crossed Garion's face and his eyes filled with tears.

"He was."

They both grew silent for a long time.

"It was a very hard year"

"And it's not yet over" Garion's sad eyes went to Aunt Pol. "How is she doing?"

"She is very strong, Garion. She will get better"

"That doesn't answer my question"

"Your question was to obvious for a direct answer"

"I'm sorry"

Belgarath sighed

"You are a king, Garion. Kings don't apologies. They should, but they don't."

"You are talking like the others now"

Belgarath allowed himself to smile for a moment.

"They are still trying to teach you the….trade?"

"I can't even sleep without one of them coming by to visit and talk endlessly about a king's responsibility. I wouldn't mind if they were serious about it…but they are not"

"There is too much sendar on you, boy" Belgarath laughed quietly "Just relax and be thankful they can laugh on those circumstances"

"Well, I can't" Garion sulked "Why did do you called me anyway?"

Belgarath grew serious and his face grave. Garion was instantly sitting straight..

"I talked to the twins. Beldin was also attacked. He was surprised by the dragon on Mallorea. He is getting better, but neither of them will be able to come here to help."

Garion waited patiently for him to go on. His grandfather looked very tired. He had not slept on the last 10 days. Garion had of course volunteered to take his place, but was very disappointed by his grandfather's lack of trust.

"Garion, your aunt isn't well right now. You are aware of that, aren't you?"

Garion nodded, just once.

"No matter what she tells you, you must promise me you won't obey her nor believe anything she says."

Now he hesitated and lowered his eyes for a brief instant to the floor. Belgarath sighed.

"Listen for once to someone who knows more, Garion."

"What if she _is_ telling the truth?" He blurted then "What if….if it really happened that way? What if Durnik is alive? What if…"

"What if he isn't?" Belgarath cut him off "Are you going to risk your Aunt's life or your own, to make sure if a man that was killed and killed again and buried is alive _again_ by some kind of miracle?"

Garion sat back down, having risen on his exaltation.

"No" He sighed brokenly

"I'm going to stay here, but I need to sleep" Belgarath continued, lying back down on the chair as if about to take his nap right there "You stay too and make sure she stays put. If she wakes up or makes something weird, you wake me up."

"Alright" Garion sighed.

"Now move out of there" The old man said "The couch is mine for a while"

"Are we…dead?"

"I don't think so. My arm still hurts"

Durnik tried to move towards her, but everything around them trembled and scared, he stopped. Polgara glanced around at the green grass and the bright cloudless sky.

"I think we have managed to break all the barriers, Durnik. Our minds are linked." She smiled and moved towards him. "Just stay calm."

Durnik moved then to her again. At first it was very hard for his legs wouldn't obey him, if they did, then he had problems with his arms, then with his eyes. Polgara laughed, a rich, melodic sound as the smith fought to keep both his imagine and the world around him steady. She helped him out and the earth was firm again, and the grass green. Polgara reached out to him and both embraced.

"I have dreamt with this moment for so long" Polgara whispered on the smith's shoulder, caressing his now human back.

He sighed as well and kissed her forehead with the warmest tenderness.

"I have too, my Pol."

It was a very long time before either of them broke the embrace. When they did, there was a river next to them and they sat.

"I like this place" Durnik said approvingly.

"Don't look at me with so much gratitude. You made it"

He seemed surprise and a bit incredulous

"I helped a bit" Polgara offered. "But it was your idea"

"Oh, well." He looked around and smiled a bit sheepishly "It seems a bit empty, though."

He concentrated and all around them flowers began to appear. They roused from the grass and opened to the sun. Durnik looked a bit sad.

"Well…not as big as a rose, but…"

"But more beautiful"

Durnik smiled and the sun above shown brighter and a gently breeze blown, caressing their hearts and souls as they sat there, at last, in perfect contentment.

The physician emerged from the room. She was the only female physician, besides Aunt Pal, on the whole island. Garion would have liked to get Asrana, but she was busy on her own home-land. Half of Arendia had being engulfed by the flames and along it, half the population. Tolnedra was leading a hand and so was Aloria, but things were worse there than in Riva. At least on the island, they had being able to put to safety most of the population. Luckily it was custom on Arendia to have young ladies study medicine. It was even expected of them and so if something didn't lack there were physicians. Here, whatsoever, it was men territory. Women could study the trade…but that would mean their social-acceptance banishment. This one probably suffered from misunderstanding already, though. She was a big, fat woman with a sour temper and a bad eye. Garion didn't care for such frivolous things, but had noticed that his people did care a lot.

She didn't even bowed when laid eyes on him. She merely nodded and walked away with all her medical instruments with her.

Garion moved back inside the room. Aunt Pol was awake, but seemly uncomprehending. He didn't even reached the bed before she was fast asleep again. With a sigh, the young rivan sat back down and waited for his grandfather to come back.

"Luckily the royal treasure wasn't touch by the flames. Be thankful you have a tolnedran for wife" Belgarath told him as he entered the room. "She haggles like a fisher men. If she keeps going like this, the entire city will be rebuilt just at half the cost."

Garion smiled.

"I imagine Silk is helping too"

"He is. So be afraid when he comes back to have the favor repaid"

"I will let Ce'Nedra take care of that. I'm sure no one sign anything"

Belgarath moved closer to the bed and glanced at his daughter.

"She awoke for a moment and then went back to sleep"

Belgarath cursed under his breath.

"Has the ogress said anything?"

"Grandfather!"

"What? She is the worst tempered women I have ever met! Did she?"

"No, she just changed the bandages and went away."

"Move, boy. That's my place"

Belgarath sat mumbling under his breath.

"I have seen many of those" Polgara commented contemplating the whales dancing among the grey waves of the sea as the sun hid on the horizon. "But it never seemed so beautiful"

"I'm glad you like it." Durnik said, his eyes close and a soft smile adorning his face. "I have never thought that doing nothing would be so pleasant"

"We are doing many things, dearest. Just not with our bodies"

The whales stopped their dance and disappeared with the sun. It all became still and gloomy. Neither of them moved and unconsciously embraced one another more tightly as if trying to shield one another from an inexistent cold. No word emerged from their lips, both afraid to state the obvious.

"You must get out" Polgara said quietly after a very long time, moving away just enough to be able to see his eyes. "From…wherever your were put on"

Durnik trembled and his eyes grew hunted and terrified.

"I can't"

Polgara didn't insist, remembering the grave, the dark. She shivered too.

"Maybe we can stay here." She ventured then, remembering her own miseries; the pain of her wounds, of her confinement, of the solitude she suddenly felt among the people she thought to be friends and the ones who were family. "Together"

Durnik didn't answer. He felt guilty for dragging her with him, for not trying harder, for not saying no to her idea. But he didn't say no. He didn't say anything and just kept her tightly close to him.

"I did all I had to do" Polgara continued almost as if talking to herself "I worked very hard for a very long time…I deserve this. I deserve you."

She looked at him again and Durnik lowered his face to hers, still silent, still feeling guilty, still being happy for her decision.

"We deserve this"

"We do" Durnik finally said and for the first time, it was him who reached out to her and kissed her lips.

They heard a growling noise behind them and alarmed, they both turned. A huge white bear was there, glowing and its teeth bared, its ears back, splattered to its head. Durnik pushed Polgara gently behind him as it moved towards them, it's the eyes cold and threatening.

"I can't make it go away" Polgara told him on an alarmed whisper.

The bear roared and jumped against them. They both moved aside to different directions, to each other's dismay. Durnik stared with horror as the huge animal turned to Polgara and she retreated, her face a mask of fear and incomprehension. He tried to run to her, when a sudden blow sent him flying across the place. When he opened his eyes again, everything was darkness and both the bear and Polgara were gone. There was only a huge red bull with him, facing him, bellowing with its huge horns pointing straight at him.

Durnik stood, enraged and with hot tears on his eyes.

"Why?!" he screamed at it. "Why?!"

The bull bawled and charged. Durnik jumped aside and made a mace appeared out of the air. Trembling in anger and frustration, he faced the monster. It upright its proud head and contemplated the smith with great dignity. Durnik waited but then another sound came. He turned around seconds before a roaring lion jumped on him, its jaws open aiming to his head.

Polgara had her hands rose to the bear. She didn't understand what was happening, how it was possible for anyone to resist her will on her own domain. It wasn't Durnik. She knew it wasn't possible for him to have such control…but who and why?

"What do you want?" She finally asked to it, retreating as the animal moved towards her.

The bear snarled and attacked. Polgara jumped out of sheer reflect and fell backwards when her feet got entangled with something. She heard a hissing sound and when she turned a huge snake was behind her. It lunged snarling towards her face.

Polgara sat suddenly on the bed, screaming. She turned her head sharply. A royal owl, with wise and sad eyes was staring at her from the barrel window. She vaguely recognized who it was but her rage was too great.

"You son of a bitch!" She screamed with all the strength of her lungs as she threw at it the first thing her hand grasped.

The owl flew away as the book hit the bars. Polgara had jumped of the bed and was throwing another book at it, even when it was gone. The brusque movement made her see stars and her legs buckled.

"Fuck! Damn it!"

Hands were on her almost instantly. And trembling she jumped aside, hitting the wall and the night table.

"No!"

"Aunt Pol!"

The voice sounded familiar and in some level, it calmed her. She lowered her outstretched arm and put it down and the night table for support as she gasped with great effort. When she opened her eyes again, she recognized the bed, the walls of her chambers at Riva's fortress. She recognized Garion, standing worriedly a few inches away. She recognized her father, wearily looking at her. Her eyes burning with tears, Polgara covered her face with her good hand and sat back on the bed.

"Aunt Pol?" Garion repeated gently putting both hands on her shoulders comfortingly.

Polgara didn't answer and sighed profoundly. She thanked the hug Garion gave her then, feeling deadly cold and alone. It wasn't the same, but she returned the hug, . Her left arm resented the movement and the pain made her wince and she wept then, slowly and so quietly as just someone with years of weeping could do.


	35. Strike one

She had to leave. It was either leaving or going mad. If she slept, the bear was there, looking at her, alert and still. If she was awake, her father was guarding her. She was trapped, caged! There was only one hope and she didn't like it much. But it was the only way out she could think off. His father would get tired, already was showing signs of it. When he did, she was going for it. It was only one single chance.

The click of the door startled her and she felt her father's weary stare on her. She fought to dissipate her nervousness. She could do this. She realized suddenly that it was the first time on her life she didn't knew what was going to happen to her and that no one was there to support her if something went wrong. She was all alone; planning a run out…she felt the sensation strangely exhilarating.

"You don't look very well"

"Ce'Nedra was…awfully crossed today. She was mumbling something about a low weasel-face Drasnian tricking her into signing something."

Polgara winced and heard his father whistling.

"I'm surprised at how calmly you are taking that. You do realize-…"

"Yes, I do, grandfather. Thank you very much"

"Just wanted to make sure---"

"Don't. Please"

Belgarath stood and glanced at Aunt Pol. Garion noted certain tension…but it had being there like a miasma for the last week. His aunt was quite jumpy lately and his grandfather suspected something, but it seemed she was too weak to try anything, or so the physician said and Belgarath, a bit more doubtful, agreed.

"I will be right there, as always" he said, a bit more loudly than it was really necessary.

Garion nodded and sat next to the bed as Belgarath moved towards the couch and laid there to sleep for at least a few hours.

Polgara waited till midnight. Her father's breathing was steady and shallow. She knew any strong noise from her part would awake him, but a soft one would make the trick, she was sure of it. Sharp and quick was the trick. Just as it had being before. She sighed and closed her eyes, steeling herself. Finally, when she felt ready, she sat as if just wakening. Garion, as always, was hovering next to her in an instant.

"Aunt Pol?" He asked uncertainly as she kept sitting there, her good hand placed on her forehead.

She turned to look at him with sad eyes and then a soft smile. It seemed not to be comforting because Garion's worried expression deepened.

"Are you alright? Another nightmare?"

"Somewhat" she answered shortly and reached with her good hand to caress his cheek.

Garion took her hand.

"Do you want something? Water? Some food? I can bring some to you. I have lots of practice, bringing things to you"

He smiled, a sad smile that made Polgara's heart feel a heavier guilt than she already felt. She pushed him gently to her and hugged him, kissing the blond head with all the love she had.

"You do know that I love you and I care for you don't you?" Polgara said with her voice deep with emotion.

His arms, before hesitating, were completely sure then and he embraced her.

"And I love you too, Aunt Pol. I care for you too a lot. I'm worried for you."

She opened her eyes at that, eyes blue and clouded.

"I know, dear. And I don't hold grudges"

Garion didn't ask. He knew what she was referring to. He just hugged her more tightly to him, a silent request of forgiveness to an anger that wasn't even there. He felt her cold hand on his neck, then on his chest.

"I hope you will not either"

He didn't have any suspicion. He felt puzzled…but never suspicious. He would have never thought his aunt would actually hurt him. He should have heard to his grandfather. His word was suddenly occupied by a sharp intense pain and then by absolute darkness.

Polgara grimaced and fell on Garion, failing to hold him as his legs buckled. The noise was luckily smothered by the carpet. She glanced at her father. The old man was snoring. Garion's eyes were shut tightly. It had being a mere bolt, something strong enough to stun him, but not enough to cause any harm. Just in case she checked his pulse one time, then a second before leaving and a third one when she returned to put a pillow below his head and covered him with a blanket. Moving through the room with soft steps, she dressed quietly with a common grey gown and then she moved quietly towards the door.

There was someone outside. Polgara closed her eyes and concentrated, acting very quietly, as quietly as she could. The man's awareness was soon out down to sleep. She opened the door and leaving the guard standing asleep, she staggered towards the end of the corridor. It was cold outside and she cursed under her breath for not taking a coat with her. It was dark on the corridor, but she didn't need light. She knew those corridors like the palm of her hand.

It was taking too long to reach the stupid stairs. Polgara realized that she in a worst condition than she had imagined. Having her heart so painfully wounded and so worried about Durnik, she had forgotten about her own body to the extreme of ignoring it. There were deep cuts on her back and stomach that had being stitched shut and each time she moved, the stitches pulled painfully on her flesh. It was now evident that one of her legs hadn't care much for the fallen she had taken on her fight with the dragon. It hurt horribly every time she put down the right foot. It would take her forever to reach the port like this.

Dazed, she stumbled towards the stairs, missing the noise of someone approaching. The light of a torch just being lighten hurt her eyes and she covered them with her good hand.

"Polgara?" She cursed under her breath. "I thought you were not supposed to move"

She faced him then, her eyes unfriendly and the white lock at her brown glowing on the light like a drawn sword.

"Just saying what I heard" Silk said, rising his hands on a placating gesture. "Are you alright?"

"Do I look like I'm alright to you?" she snapped, cursing herself for taking the wrong turn.

"Not really. Here, let me help"

She allowed him to take her good arm and take it over his shoulder.

"I have to go to the port." She panted, recognizing where she had made her mistake.

Silk stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"My lady…"

"Fine, then don't help" She broke the hold and supported herself against the wall, her weak leg giving way below her.

"Belgarath said you…"

"I what?" she snapped at him as the Drasnian abruptly stopped "He told you I'm not right in the head now, did he? My father has this idea that just because he has all those weaknesses, all the rest of the world shares them"

Polgara started walking again, clenching her teeth and fighting to keep herself straight as she walked. Silk walked next to her, trying to get her to support herself on him again.

"You know he is going to come after you, don't you?"

"He is asleep" She let him grab her again and as he helped her to move towards the stair, she put her mouth right next to his ear "And if you wake him up, it wont be the face the only weasel like thing you are going to have."

Silk went pale and for a moment he stopped on his tracks.

"Well, if you put it that way…I could say later, when he comes towering on me, that you made me do it, now couldn't I?"

"You do that"

"You can be scarier than him"

"I know"

Silk helped her to climb down the stairs, although it was apparently taking an eternity. By half the way, she was sweating and gasping.

"My Lady, I don't pretend to discuss this with a woman of the trade but…aren't you a bit…unfitting to travel right now?"

Polgara didn't answer. She didn't know, she wasn't sure she cared anymore. Inside the room, it was her heart. Outside, it was her body. She didn't know what to do anymore.

"Hey, what's going on there?"

Silk heard Polgara cursing softly under her breath as Barak came staggering from below the stairs. His voice was slurred and Polgara chocked at the odor of beer coming along the Cherek.

"Did you found your so lost wallet?! Polgara?!"

"Make him go quiet or I will and it wont be pretty" Polgara hissed crossly.

"Polgara here is feeling…not quite herself, Barak. I will be turned into a weasel if I don't keep my mouth shut and you may be turned into an oaf or something if you don't level your tone of voice"

"I thought she shouldn't be moving around" Barak said drunkenly, scratching his beard.

"Has everyone being told the same bullshit?!"

"My lady, if you don't level your own voice, you may have to turn yourself into something too"

"Just help me up."

This wasn't coming out as she had expected. On her desperation she had forgotten Alorn's feisty moods. How could anyone think of partying on the ruins of a burnt city?! Where would they get the beer anyway? She was so mad at the moment that even whispered the questions to Silk.

"We are Alorns, my lady. We can find beer anywhere and anywhen....How exiting. I have just invented a word. Wait till Garion hears about it"

"Where are you going anyway?" Barak asked gravely, blocking their way.

Polgara tried to scare him off as she did with Silk, but the Cherek was too intoxicated to have anything remotely close to common sense.

"To the port" She said coldly "are you going to help me get there?"

"Belgarath said…"

"Belgarath is asleep" she barked in response "And I'm not. So now I'm telling you to move your fat ass out of my way"

Barak hesitated and then a terribly noise was heard from one of the corridors coming from the throne room.

"Fuck it!!"

Silk started,

"If you were planning to quietly leave the place, screaming curses is not a good part of it"

Anheg was coming by, bellowing furiously. Barak and Silk moved behind Polgara almost unconsciously.

"Where is my money?!" The king of Cherek howled, staggering towards them, Brand's oldest son, Kail was with him. Their eyes widen when they placed them on Polgara.

The sorceress cursed under her breath and pushed Silk aside. She started climbing down the rest of the stairs.

"Polgara, I thought…"

"I would think of you being a toad for the rest of your life if you don't shut up" Polgara snapped

She then turned to the others, as to make sure all were include on her threat. And then she turned to the other corridor, not sure if it would lead her directly to the doors, or if it would force her to walk more than it was necessary. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. Someone grabbed her good arm and she turned slowly, not forgetting how painful it had being the last time she turned around too fast. It was Kail and he was looking at her with grave eyes, the same her father had, and the ones before them. She found herself divagating about the warders. It wasn't a hereditary title and still all of them shared the same eyes. Like Kamion's.

"My lady, you look unwell"

Polgara tried to pull her arm away. She did feel unwell. She shook her head and pulled harder.

"I would let go if I were you"

"Kail, maybe you should…"

"She is burning with fever, my lord. I wont allow her to go anywhere on this condition"

Polgara clenched her teeth, her blood boiling. She had never being restraint before. No men had ever told her what to do or where to go. Her father had the authority, and just barely…

"Let go of me, warder. I'm warning you."

Kail turned to her but her glaring daggers at him didn't seem to be enough to intimidate him.

"I have my orders, my lady. And they were delivered by your father and my king. I'm sorry."

He tried to drag her with him and Polgara planted her feet to hold her ground.

"It's my last warning, boy!"

"Please, my lady." He kept begging. "You are hurt and don't seem well"

Anheg and Barak, both hesitating at first, come closer too and instead of helping her get free, they seem to want to aid Kail. Breathing heavily, trembling like a cornered deer, she finally snapped.

Kail flew backwards, screaming in pain as an invisible force stroke at him. Anheg and Barak were showed against the wall and Polgara, gasping for breath, was released. She fell down but was sitting back up almost instantly. Silk, pale and wide eyed stared at the unconscious Kail and the two dazed chereks. There were hurried steps from all directions and cursing, the Lady Polgara fought to stand.

Guards come from the one side of the corridor, running from the throne room and other few come from the other side. They had their lances raised and turned from one to the other, confused and not knowing what to say or what to do. Polgara sensed her father's presence and she cursed under her breath. Standing she tried to make a run for it and started moving clumsily towards the window. The guards, confused, allowed her to pass and started helping the wounded.

"Silk!" The Drasnian looked up in time to see a very angry looking Belgarath next to him

"Lady Polgara came by to say hi, my old friend." He reported as Belgarath run past him and went towards his fleeing daughter.

She was surprised at how fast she was managing to go. Probably a 4 years old child could go twice as fast, but she was stupidly proud of herself at the moment. Her father was hot in pursuit and she felt him quite near, but the window was also quite near. She jumped for it and was rewarded by a smack on the chin as her father jumped along her and managed to grab her by the ankles.

Belgarath gasped, having being dragged off his sleep and forced to run almost 100 meters into a marathonic speed. Polgara had just smashed her head on the concrete, but he was too busy holding her legs to worry about the effects of such a blow on her…and himself once she recovered and she did so fast. Caressing her chin, she turned down on the floor and tried to sit. Belgarath let go of her and stood. She looked at him with teary eyes and a heart-breaking expression on her face as she nursed her chin. He just stared at her, gasping as well.

The others appeared soon and Polgara stood. Belgarath grabbed her arm firmly. Polgara did then something none of the present expected. She herself didn't know what she was doing till she had done it. She threw herself against her father, smashing her splintered arm into his neck. They both fell against the wall and Belgarath was dazed enough time to allow her escape. She climbed to the window again and tried to jump out. Two strong arms grabbed her again and twisting wildly, she turned into a snowy owl and let out a earth-breaking shrike that echoed on the skies.

Anheg fought to grab on the bird as it twisted frantically on his hands. It shrieked and clawed at the air and finally managed to stab at his hand with its sharp beak. The king of Cherek cried out and freed one wing. The owl grabbed his other hand with the claws of its feet and finally broke free. Barak was also there trying to take her. Angered behind measure, Polgara aimed to his face and bit his ears and clawed his nose as she climbed her way free. White feathers flying everywhere Polgara tried again to go outside, and her broken bones paralyzed all movement. She fell hard on her back into her own form and out of breath.

She didn't resist anymore as Belgarath, coughing, moved to her and Barak picked her up tenderly. She was dazedly looking outside and leaving everything now to the one she loved.


	36. Back on the skies

Durnik's eyes snapped open as he heard the hollow cry of a known bird…and still his eyes opened to darkness. He started gasping again, not being able to move, and feeling his members weak. Polgara was in pain, he had to get to her, he had to help her…but he couldn't move.

Trembling, he took one of his claws and touched the roof of his grave, the wooden frame. He moaned and clawed at it experimentally. He scratched harder, finding his previously weak arm was stronger. His chest hammering with excitement he pushed and pushed and clawed at it as the wood was broken away. Suddenly his claw went through it and all his happiness and excitement was replaced by horror as a rain of earth and dust fell on him. He screamed, a hollow noise only compared to the howls of a tormented demon.

Zubrette started as a hideous noise resounded from everywhere. Strange noises had being tearing apart the quietness of night. Rundoring next to her jumped to his feet, and turned his head to all directions, searching the source of such a terrible cry.

"Maybe we should go..." She said then, getting closer to him and hugging his arm.

"Yes…you go. I will stay here"

"There is nothing here and it's almost morning, Rundoring. We have being guarding the graves all night. Let others do it know"

Another howl was heard and Zubrette felt a terribly urge to run. She did jumped away a moment, but noticing Rundoring was still standing there, she stopped.

"Let's go! I'm scare!"

Rundoring had his dull eyes on the grave… of the Thing. They had found the body after the dragon left and the fire was extinguished by the rain: a burnt carcass with wings and claws and fangs. Most of them had being terrified by it and had run away screaming. Others stayed and prayed to all seven gods in awed and horrified whispers.

For five long days all survivors who could walk moved around the burnt fields searching for bodies, founding most of the time only bones and melted flesh. It had being a hard work to do, and both Rundoring and Zubrette had being thankful that most of the carcasses were unrecognizable. They spent days of hunger and thirst, but nobody wanted to abandoned their friends and family. Many had died and many people wept for them. Food and water and workers were sent by the King to all the affected areas and soon, a caravan reached what had once being Faldor's farm. They fed them, and helped them buried the dead, including the Thing.

"It…whatever it was, has not made us any harm" Faldor had said then, contemplating the Thing with the same sad resignation he looked everything around him "None shall laid on the open on my land…"

And so, the soldiers put it on a wooden box and throw it on the deepest hole they could dig. No other grave was made near by. The noises were coming from that grave now. The lonely stone marking its grave was unmoving on the darkness…but the earth seemed to howl in agony.

"Go back to the others, Zubrette" Rundoring said, picking up a shovel near by.

The blonde girl was shivering, now aware of the same thing Rundoring was. The sound was becoming stronger…as if something was digging near by, scratching its way out. The grave of the thing palpitated like the chest of a dying animal. It was getting out.

Terrified, Zubrette fled, forgetting about Rundoring and screaming her lungs out.

A clawed hand suddenly emerged from the grave and Rundoring gasped in horror, grasping the shovel with such strength that his knuckles turned white. The claw was followed soon by other and a rounded head emerged, howling and shrieking as only hundreds of cats burning slowly over a stove could do. Like a monstrous spider, two long members made their way through the earth's surface and they opened to revealed two membranous set of black wings. The thing made horribly noises as it kept fighting its way out. Rundoring had the shovel raised like a sword, but as the thing finally emerged and turned its glowing eyes to him, the young boy screamed and run off at full speed, embracing the shovel as it would his only chance to escape.

Durnik was trembling, his blood rushing through his veins and his heart hammering wildly. He vaguely recognized the retreating form of Rundoring, but surprisingly didn't even care. His body was healed again and he felts strong and renewed. It took a great effort to get a hold on that wild need to jump in the air and fly, not caring where or why, just fly, just make the sky roar and explode to welcome him back into the world. He grasped his head, whimpering. Pol…she had called out to him…

His wings opened and Durnik jumped, flapping vigorously and turning north, to Riva.

"Shut the windows" The physician growled at Belgarath as she re-splintered Polgara's arm.

Belgarath obeyed quickly. If she had being an ogress before, she was very similar to a rabid Eldrak at the moment. But he wasn't on a good mood himself so both were very careful around one another. Nobody else was on the room with them. The physician had tried to kick Belgarath out as well, but he absolutely refused to leave. Polgara was awake, though a bit dazed by the bitter smelling potion the huge women had given her before starting to splinter her arm again.

A storm had just broken outside. It was quite strong even for Riva's standards. The stone houses were built to resist even hurricanes and there was no wind strong enough to blow them away, but it did cause troubles to the ships on the port. Some had being dragged away and had smashed into the houses and cliffs. Lightning ripped out the clouds with fury as the roar of the thunder make it seemed as if the sky itself would fall apart.

"I hope you are paying attention to that, Pol" Belgarath said mildly

She didn't answer and he thought it was for the medicine she was giving. He sat on the couch. He was not supposed to turn around. The physician had tried to get him out because it was necessary to take Pol's gown off. But he was growing anxious. He needed to talk to her, to make sure she was alright. She did hit the window pretty hard. He hadn't meant for her to fall like that.

"Was that really necessary, Polgara?" He finally snapped, feeling so guilty that it made him angry again, "It was the most stupid thing you have ever done!"

He heard movement and after a moment heard the physician's voice.

"Done" she said and Belgarath turned. "Try not to scream too much. She needs sleep"

And then she was gone. Ce'Nedra came in almost immediately, followed by a grumpy looking Garion.

"I thought you were sent to bed" Belgarath growled at him.

"I told you to stay on the room" Ce'Nedra retorted as well, not even turning around as she sat next to Polgara.

"I told you the same thing" Garion said crossly-

Polgara shook her head, fighting off the effects of the potion she was giving to dull the pain when the physician set her arm back straight. It occurred to her that she should be feeling mad, frustrated or even ashamed for what had just happened, for what she did to Garion and what her father and the others had done to her…and still what she felt was different. She was nervous, excited and didn't know why or what to think of it. It wasn't causing her pain or anger, nor it was making her feel happy…it was just her feeling very nervous. She needed to stand or move or do something.

"Aunt Pol?" Ce'Nedra called to her and Polgara jumped at the voice and at the contact of a small cold hand on her forehead.

The child-like face of Ce'Nedra was staring at her, and Polgara felt strangely disconnected, as if among strangers. Was the effect of the drink? A thunder exploded outside and she jumped on the bed and sat.

Something grabbed her arm and she winced in pain, being pulled down on the bed, not even realizing she had sat on the side of it. Her father was looking at her worriedly, talking to her, but the words made no sense, the sound of it was lost on the roar of the thunders. It was calling her…_he_ was calling her.

"What's wrong with her?" Ce'Nedra asked in a worried whispered

"Aunt Pol?"

"Get off me!"

Belgarath clenched his teeth when Polgara turned and bit hard on his restraining hand in an attempt to free herself. Her eyes had grown unfocused and clouded before trying again to go towards the window. She had slipped, he was sure of that. The mere thought of loosing her this way filled him with such sadness that his whole body went numb. But he stayed firm and tried to swallow his own desperation as he tried to hold her still. Garion had sense enough now to help him. As she kept screaming, the fury of the storm seemed to intensify. The window smashed open and the three of them jumped.

"Is she doing this?!" Garion screamed in fright.

"She can't be doing that!" Belgarath answered, but not sure anymore. It wasn't natural and he didn't feel anyone else around.

Suddenly she stopped her fight and turned to the window with wide eyes. A broad smile of relief and overwhelming happiness appeared on her face

"Durnik!"

A hideous shriek was heard from outside and Ce'Nedra screamed with all the strength of her lungs. Belgarath and Garion turned in time to see a hideous beast outside, grabbing to the bars with arms and legs, howling.

The door to the room smashed open and the guard always outside entered. Polgara had redoubled her efforts to free herself and she screamed desperately as the guard jumped forward and attacked Durnik with his spare.

The beast managed to evade his thrust and it grabbed to the weapon with its claws. It pushed and the guard fought to hold his ground. More guards soon trooped inside

"Shoot!" A voice ordered suddenly

Durnik looked up for a moment before an arrow stabbed his chest. He let go off the spare and before he could take the thing off another one came whistling and perforated his head. Polgara screamed, but Durnik merely reached out to take it off. He shrieked in surprise when a spear went through his stomach, forcing him to let go of the bars. Soon, he managed to push it out, but more were coming. Moaning he moved away

"To the terrace!" One of the high ranked guards ordered, running outside the room, leaving behind five soldiers armed with spears and bows on the window.

"No!" Polgara screamed desperately, fighting to break free from her fathers grasp. "You have him there, you old man! It's Durnik! See his face, talk to him!"

Garion and Belgarath exchanged looks and suddenly the rivan King let go of his aunt's shoulder and run off as fast as his legs could take him.

"You go too!" Polgara screamed at him "Make them stop!"

Belgarath turned to the soldiers and then to his daughter again

"Don't move" he commanded to her and then moved to the window. "Move out of the way! Let me see!"

The soldiers moved reluctantly away, but the thing outside was gone. The storm having gone wilder than before, the wind itself seemed to howl in outrage. Polgara sat on the side of the bed and she watched her father expectantly.

"It's gone"

Trembling she turned to the other side and Belgarath grabbed her from behind.

"You stay here and I mean it!"

Her muscles suddenly stopped moving and she shuddered. Surprised behind measure she turned to him. He was glaring at her with such intensity that even then, she obeyed instantly. The old man run then towards the door and left the room.

He finally managed to reach the terrace and landed, trusting on the howling winds around him to keep the shouting guards at bay. They were grabbing desperately to the parapets, unable to leave the safety of the walls to attack him, but successfully blocking his way. Durnik looked around, trying to think what to do. Finally he opened his wing again and the wind picked him up.

Garion was finally able to push his way through the mass of guards blocking the stairs with a sword on his hand. The beast was flying away again, seemly unaffected by the hurricane. He followed it with his eyes and then turned back.

Finally a window could be seen ahead and Durnik landed. He peered inside, finding no one there, but a blue light. The orb of Aldur, the accursed thing that had being the caused of the destruction of his life, was glowing mildly inside. Climbing down, Durnik got close to it, surprised at the hatred a stone was awakening on him. A soft music resounded on his ears and he wondered if it was coming from the orb. Garion used to say it sang to him when things were bad and now its music was sounding on his own mind. Durnik sighed softly and realized that he also owned it. If it weren't for that stone, Mistress Pol would have never appeared on his life. The former smith reached out with his clawed hand, feeling the urge to touch it, to caress its smooth surface.

The door slammed open and Durnik jumped on the air like a cat, hissing and howling like a beast without even noticing he was doing it. Guards trooped inside along with the hysteric villages whose houses had being smashed down by the dragons and resided on the palace. They had torches and weapons with them and before the efrit could even react, dozens of arrows fell on him and stabbed his flesh. He wasn't worried, the arrows could not hurt him, but then some of the villagers started throwing the torches at him, calling him a demon, a monster.

Whimpering, the fire searing his flesh, Durnik showed them his outstretched talons, begging them to stop, but they moved with renew fury. And then, the orb itself flashed with anger and the people, screaming in pain and fear, retreated. Durnik covered his eyes too, so used as they were to the dark; the light hurt them with terribly intensity. But the song on his mind was soothing; the orb's reassuring that it was there to protect him.

A familiar voice begun to shout orders and more join it soon. The song of the orb changed and seemed filled with happiness and excitement, a childish sort of eagerness that touched him in a strange way. Durnik opened his eyes and his heart trembled at the young face staring horrified from some distance away. Garion's blue eyes were fixed on him, his expression a mix of revulsion, wonder and sadness.

The thing was staring at him, hugged miserably to the throne, its face…its eyes…

"By the seven gods…" Garion whispered, still unable to move, to even breathe.

Durnik gave a hesitating step towards him.

"Garion…"

Garion's expression just kept becoming more and more horrified. Durnik's heart sank and then, it suddenly hardened. He had gone through too much. It was time to end it. He didn't say no more, he stood on his full height, his sad eyes fixed on the young boy's.

Garion gave a hesitating step towards it and Kail, having recovered from the blow Polgara had given him hours before, moved and grabbed his arm.

"Your Majesty…"

Garion didn't talk and his legs stopped all movement, but his eyes never left the demon's. The face was the same; the eyes were different but still the same in some way. The orb was glowing with enthusiasm and the music it sang was different. It seemed urging. The beast didn't move anymore and its eyes were ever so calm and so open.

Garion free his arm from the Warder's grasp and moved with firm steps to the thing to the horror of the guards. They tried to go to him, but the orb exploded in a new wave of light and the heath of it made them retreat whimpering in fear. The king of Riva planted himself in front of the thing, unafraid and unarmed. It stood tall and firm and then, its eyes grew gentle.

"You have always being a good lad, Garion" It said.

Garion trembled and threw himself on the thing's arms, embracing him with all the strength he had. Durnik seem startled, but finally patted his shuddering back. The orb's light turned from blue to a deep red and the light started flickering, the music deep and strangely rhythmical. Garion finally understood and let go of his friend to turn and take the orb from its pommel. Both of them exchanged a serious glance and Durnik extended a firm talon. Garion, with just the same security, put the orb down on it and the claws closed around the stone.


	37. On the light of the orb

Polgara grabbed her head and ears as a terrible howling noise shattered the air. It came from both the outside and the inside and the medallion touching her chest burnt. She screamed along with it, understanding what it meant, what it was. When the blue light that had exploded suddenly outside dissipated and the howling banished, she felt naked, abandoned. The sky cleared and the storm left and it took away, she was sure, her beloved one with it. The pain she felt on her heart was overwhelming and she abandoned herself to her weeping and the almost physical pain on her heart.

Ce'Nedra was helped back to her feet for one of the pale and trembling guards. The little dryad was breathing in short gasps, her ears still ringing.

"Garion…go for…to look for him…see what happened…" she gasped, trying to stand, but not even trying to straighten her legs.

The guard helped her to the chair and then turned, the rest following him close. A soft noise broke the little queen out of her dizziness and she turned to Polgara. She was on her side, crying softly, grasping the pillow with such desperation that her knuckles had turned white.

Ce'Nedra didn't talk. She merely stood and hugged her as best as she could; trying to give her all the comfort she could. Polgara's weeping slowly subsided and the sorceress let go slowly of the pillow. Ce'Nedra noticed that her body was getting cold, her breathing irregular, and her heart had started beating so slow. The little dryad let go of her, and scared, went for the physician.

"_Polgara_" a voice resounded on her fainting consciousness.

It was as known voice, a voice she had listen to even before she was born. And now, on the moment of her death, Polgara decided to ignore it. It was over, everything was over.

"_Oh, no dear."_ Her mother's voice contradicted almost merrily. _"Nothing is over. It's beginning."_

Polgara didn't answer but the pain subsided for an instant and her heart seemed to wait for that final explanation, for those words that would give it an excuse to stop beating or a reason to keep working.

"_Use your mind, my daughter. Reach out again"_

And so she did and all the pain was suddenly gone.

Garion covered his eyes as the orb exploded in a wave of terrible light. Durnik howled in agony as the fire of the orb engulfed him. The people fled away from the pain the noise and the light caused to their ears and eyes but Garion couldn't have escaped the pain no matter how fast he ran or how far he went. It was coming also from the inside and the amulet was burning his flesh.

As soon as it started, it all stopped. The orb's soothing music resounded once again on his mind, the burning light turned down to its mild glowing and Durnik stopped his deafening screaming. The storm was also gone and the timid light of dawn appeared slowly through the windows. Garion opened his eyes slowly and stayed still and holding his breath, staring at the silent and prostrated form of Durnik, the smith. Two rough hands grabbed his arms and someone pushed him back to his feet. Garion turned his head to face his grandfather, whose old eyes were shining with a strange wander.

Durnik moaned and his smoking form stirred. Belgarath let go off Garion's arms and he walked slowly to Durnik. The smith coughed and shuddered, taking a trembling hand to his forehead. Belgarath took off his cape and covered the naked man. Durnik looked up, startled and uncomprehending.

"Welcome back?" Belgarath said with a strange expression and an uncharacteristically tender smile on his old face.

Durnik shuddered again and he wept then, with the enthusiasm and openness that only a child could master. Belgarath kneeled next to him and gave his shoulder for him to cry on.

The physician checked the heart of her patience but it's beating was strong and steady. She gave the Queen of the World a hard look.

"Just cover her up if she gets cold."

"But…"

The huge women ignored her and left the room. Ce'Nedra was going after her but then she stopped on her tracks and her eyes went absolutely wild. Durnik was moving towards their room and the dead man walked passed her. The little princess moved to allow his passing without even thinking, and Garion hugged her tenderly, closing softly her little gaping mouth.

Polgara opened her tired eyes to Durnik and she smiled wearily. He picked her up and embraced her. She buried her head on his chest and sighed deeply, bewildered by the strong beating of his heart.


	38. The End

"They say the Child of Light would end what they had started" Durnik ended his story while caressing the slender hand of the sleeping Polgara

Everyone stayed quite for a very long time.

"I thought the gods were good" Garion said in an angry voice "That Torak was the twisted one"

"They did bring him back, Garion." Belgarath said calmly "This has never happened before. Even efrits were rarely seen."

"Why not bringing him back as something else?" Garion persisted "Something that wouldn't scare people off, something that wouldn't have terrorized him so much? Why not explaining him what was going to happen? Why hurting them so much?"

"I don't think it was their intention" Durnik said softly "I was very mad at first too, but then I realized gods don't think the way we do. Animals don't think the way we do either. For them, an efrit is just a messenger, not a demon, or a monster for that matter. Monsters and demons and efrits are very different things"

"Well, if they are going to order us around and play with our lives, they could at least bother to learn a bit about us"

"That they could, boy. That they could" Belgarath agreed, drinking a bit of the always present jar of ale on his hand "But, if they have not done it so far, I don't think they will care to do it anytime soon. What's important, though, is that it's all over. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Garion eyed his grandfather curiously when the old man's eyes shone with mischief.

"And its time to worry about more important matters" Ce'Nedra said suddenly. Garion was surprised that she still had energy to talk after the frenzy of kisses, hugs and happiness she plugged into after her mind processed that Durnik was neither a ghost nor a vampire and that he was truly alive. "You are back and Aunt Pol is alright. We will apologize to her once she wakes up and then everything is going to be prepared."

The three of them exchanged glances.

"Prepared? Prepared for what?"

Ce'Nedra raised her eyes to the ceiling in an exasperated gesture.

"For the weeding, Garion."

Durnik started violently and Belgarath spitted his beer. Once the coughing subsided, he laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" Ce'Nedra asked coldly and she frown at Durnik's shocked expression. "You are going to marry her, wont you?"

"Well…Yes, I would love to, but I have not yet asked her…"

Ce'Nedra gave him a long steady look and then she stood.

"Men" she sighed and walked towards the door.

Once outside they heard her imperative orders.

"You, bring me the best dress maker on the island"

"Uh…" a deep male voice said.

"Hugh, forget it, I will go myself. Send a messenger to Arendia instead. We need a good orchestra director, the best on all Arendia! Oh and…"

Garion excused himself and left the room hurriedly in hopes to stop the preparation of the most expensive weeding ever organized.

Belgarath's laughter slowly subsided. Durnik was blushing, but there was a soft smile on his lips and the old sorcerer was sure he was not even aware of it. His own smile slowly disappeared and he grew serious again.

"You two have gone through a lot"

"Yes" Durnik said and his face grew somber "But, as you said, what doesn't kill, teaches. And I have learnt a lot."

The smith felt very apprehensive when a wolfish sort of smiled crossed Belgarath's face.

"I'm sure you have." And then he sighed "Let me now when she wakes up. I think I owe her an apology. And as I'm sure an apology wont be enough…come with me when you have a moment."

And then he left, closing the door softly behind him. A flapping sound was heard and Durnik turned. A snowy owl perched on the window.

"Thank you for keeping the secret" Poledra told him gravely.

Durnik nodded to her although he didn't understand why it was necessary the separation between those two. If Belgarath's love for his wife was just half as strong as his for Pol, it hurt to even imagine what the old man felt about such a loss. And what Poledra herself may be feeling, always being around the one she loved and yet always so far. And then to his surprise, the hard beak of the owl twisted into a smile just as playful as Belgarath's had being.

"And welcome to the family"

The owl then left, leaving behind and embarrassed and yet smiling blacksmith.

Durnik was feeling very nervous. Somehow what he was doing seemed…improper. He had always being taught that two engaged people couldn't live together or even see each other alone till they were properly married.

"That's to keep young men and women out of mischief, Durnik" Belgarath would tell him irritably "And that's because their hormones rule their brains. If the approval of the gods is worrying you, remember what has taken place on the last four months."

And so he had ended right in front of Polgara's door. Now he just needed to gather enough courage to knock. After a long debate between his reasoning and inner fears, Durnik realized he was being a little silly. After all that has happened, silly things like being alone in the same room shouldn't bother so much…and still his hand tremble every time he raised it.

The door suddenly open and he started violently.

"Come inside, Durnik" Polgara's soft voice called from inside "You are right. It's silly to be afraid of a door."

Durnik blushed and entered the room, closing the door. Polgara was in front of a big mirror, inspecting her neck, where two scars were ruining the perfection of her marbled-like skin.

"Are you supposed to take them off?" Durnik asked worriedly, glancing at the bandages on the night table.

Polgara sighed but didn't answer. She had being like that since he came back. Every suggestion or comment seemed to anger her, or hurt her, as if each word would be an insult, an attack of some sorts. She had always being strong on his eyes and seeing her so touchy and seemly vulnerable made him feel very guilty. He got closer to her and slowly, as if fearing rejection, he reached with one pale hand and caressed her hair.

"I just hope it doesn't leave a mark." Polgara said then, smiling sadly.

"Does it hurt?" He brushed the fading marks with his fingertips, feeling the customary anger he felt every time he looked at her wounds.

"Not anymore"

"How is your arm?"

"Durnik, you have being asking me about my arm every day for the last two weeks" she sighed. "Its healed, everything is fine with it now."

There it was again. That tired expression on her eyes, that dark pain that seemed to suffocate her since he came back. He bit his lower lip. The fire he had always seen on them seemed to have extinguished. But he didn't insist. She seemed almost insecure now. Pol would talk to him when she felt ready. He trusted her.

"Is everything ready, then?" She asked, standing up.

Durnik glanced nervously at the door. Polgara followed his gaze.

"What?"

"Well…Al…Almost" Durnik answered, louder than it was really necessary.

The door opened then and Belgarath and Garion entered the room a bit theatrically. Polgara looked at them suspiciously.

"So, you two ready then?" Her father asked politely

"We are" Polgara answered warily

"Good"

Garion hugged his aunt carefully. He didn't let go and wouldn't let go until she returned the gesture. He knew she was still affected by all that has happened. His grandfather assured him that, in time, she would forgive them all, but the distance that has grown between them hurt like a knife nailed into his heart. He was rewarded by a timid sense of hope him as Aunt Pol sighed and returned the hug shortly, but warmly.

Belgarath waited patiently and when it was his turn, he grabbed his daughter's head and planted a firm kiss on her forehead.

"You know I love you, don't you?"

"I guess you do" Polgara sighed and then smiled "You are stubborn and an absolute brute…but we do what we think is best."

"That we do"

They stared into each other's eyes for a long time with feelings that only two who had went through so very much could shared. And then, as if ashamed by the strong emotions emerging to the surface, they both looked away.

"We should get going" Polgara said. "Before Barak gets drunk and we are forced to wait until tomorrow to leave."

Durnik glanced nervously at Belgarath again She frowned as her father's tender smile turn into that well known roguish expression.

"Barak….wont be taking us home, Pol."

Polgara stared at him with an inquisitive expression. Durnik glanced at Belgarath one last time.

"Why…why going through the sea, if we can go through the sky?"

Polgara's eyes widen and she just stared at him as he took her gently by the hand and guided her towards the window.

"Durnik?" she said nervously taking his hand with her own when the smith seemed just ready to jump out.

A soft noise filled her ears then and Durnik's formed shimmered and changed. She suddenly found herself facing a big snowy owl, his back spotted with the most beautiful black forms. Polgara gaped at him.

"My, Pol how unobservant of you." Belgarath said, making obvious efforts not to laugh "You didn't actually think they would get through all these to give him back temporarily, did you? He is back to stay, Pol."

A soft gurgling sound emerged from the owl's beak and Polgara's eyes filled with tears of pure joy. Her own form started shimmering and she changed. Both birds contemplated one another for a moment with gold unblinking eyes and then jumped outside, flapping their wings and flying away towards the horizon.


	39. Epilogue

Zandramas moved through the woods. She had a terrible headache. The alcohol was great for filling the awful emptiness on her heart since her god was gone, but it made her stomach fell as it were filled with rocks. Stumbling, she fell on her knees and threw out all what she had drank, trembling and moaning. When she had nothing more to vomit, she sat back down and wept bitterly. She begged for something, _anything_ to put her out of her misery.

She jumped to her feet and run when something huge and black begun to descend from the sky right. It came plunging from the sky and barreled the trees getting on its way. The sorceress peered from behind the tree where she managed to hide once the noise was over.

Torak was gasping and his convulsing body finally relaxed. The pain was gone. He felt numb. He was dying and the mere thought filled him with sadness and terror.

Zandramas stopped on her tracks when the dragon roused its head and let out a hollow anguished cried. Then its head fell back down and it relaxed. She got close to its head, marveled at the sight of such a creature. Huge scars crossed its body, and yet nothing could have ruined the beauty of its strong body and brilliant red scales. She hesitantly reached with one hand and caressed its neck. The dragon's eye opened and she get closer.

Torak moaned and a cloud of smoke emerged from his beak. The grolim next to him seemed marveled and her eyes were filled with religious love. He was not going to die alone and in some way, the thought made him feel better.

The dragon started whispering and Zandramas; all bemused got closer to its muzzled and allowed the words to fill her mind and heart. It gave one last whispered and breathed no more.

Zandramas laughed, first mildly, then louder.

"Behold!" She screamed to the skies. "A new god shall rise!"


End file.
